


Tear it Up

by WerepuppyBlack



Series: Tear it Up [1]
Category: Charmed, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 85,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerepuppyBlack/pseuds/WerepuppyBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Halliwell is anything but your typical hero. Harry Potter, on the other hand, is. When the Ministry are ignoring the truth, and evil is ready to rule, why are the Order pinning their hopes on the wrong boy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published at fanfiction.net - 11-13-07. Completed 02-12-09

Luperca stood, waiting, bored out of her mind. She was waiting for someone to come and take her to the place in which she was to spend the remainder of her summer. She wasn't too pleased at being in close quarters with Harry, they had never been the greatest of friends, but Fred and George and Craig were going to be there, so she supposed she could suffer through. If the person who was supposed to take her there ever showed up.

"You Luperca Black?" An arrogant American voice reached her ears, breaking her train of thought. She looked up and blinked. A boy, roughly her age perhaps a little older, was stood there. Tall and lean, his body language screamed boredom. He looked over at her, a well worn look for annoyance gracing his features. "Well am I getting an answer or do we have to resort to some sort of code here?"

Luperca's eyes narrowed. "Yes I am Luperca Black, but talk to me in that way again mate, and there'll be a hole where you should be," she told him. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Is that honestly the best threat you can come up with? Because it's a little weak," he spoke in an arrogant tone. Luperca glared, then sighed.

"Okay so I don't make the threats in my family. Sid does but that's Sid. Who are you?" She asked, thinking a name would be a handy thing to have, considering that this boy was talking to her, and she didn't know who he was. Which lead to the wanting of a name, she supposed this was what was known as circular logic.

"Chris. Otherwise known as your ride." Luperca looked. Chris frowned. "Now what?" he questioned.

"Where's the broom? Or Portkey?" She asked, reasonably from her point of view. Chris laughed, and gave a smirk,

"I don't use that type of transportation sweetheart, I use a much easier, and simpler way," he told her, his tone sounding arrogant again. Luperca looked at him, her facial expression hovering between unimpressed and wonder. Chris gave another smirk, this one less pompous than the one before, and took pity. "I orb." He held out his hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

Luperca stared at the hand, slightly nervously. She had never heard of orbing before and, as a result, was not confident in this way of transporting herself. Unfortunately, Chris did not give her time to debate on the pros and cons of orbing. He grabbed her hand, and Luperca could feel herself moving upwards.

 **XXX**

"You know, you can open your eyes, it's not like that Floo thing you all seem to like," Chris' voice broke into her thoughts for the second time that day. Luperca slowly opened her eyes. She looked around her. They seemed to be in a house, she could hear the low muttering of voices coming from a room roughly in front of her somewhere. She couldn't be sure, due to the darkness of the hall. "Told you orbing was simpler," was Chris' only remark to her.

"You are an arrogant, pompous, self-righteous little prick you know that?" Luperca told him, feeling a little more confident with herself, and the world in general, now that she was safely, she hoped, inside a house. Chris smirked at her. Luperca groaned slightly. Why did the annoying ones always find their way to her?

She pushed past the American, following the voices as best as she could, arriving at a rather solid looking door. She pushed it. It didn't open. She pushed it again, this time using more force than she had before. It still didn't open. She looked at the doorframe, only noticing then that something was stuck in the bottom of the door. Rolling her eyes at herself for not noticing in the first place, Luperca bent down and removed the object, then pushed the door open successfully.

"If Voldemort's raising an army then I want to fight." The dulcet tones of Harry James Potter reached her ears. _'Great...'_ she inwardly groaned.

"If Harry gets to fight, I get to fight too," she declared, knowing that the statement would seem a little odd, but she couldn't think of another way to let her presence known. Until after she had spoken then umpteen ideas flooded her mind. Her teachers always did tell her to stop and think before opening her mouth to speak.

"Luperca," a warm voice spoke to her, before pulling her into a hug which she gladly returned. She pulled out and grinned up at the man. "You've grown," Sirius commented lightly.

Luperca's grin grew. "Have I? You know I've heard rumours that people do that Dad, but I've never had any proof." Sirius gave a soft chuckle. His daughter was more like her mother in miniature at times. "And I meant what I said, if Harry gets to fight, I get to fight to. He's not the only one here who hates the megalomaniac." Sirius gave a smile.

"Did I say no," he began before he was interrupted.

"Sirius no! They're just children. All of them, they're not of age!" Molly Weasley's mothering instinct ran into overdrive. "Hello Luperca dear how are you, sit down and I'll get you a bowl of soup," she smiled indulgently at Luperca, who smiled politely back. Molly turned to Sirius "You cannot seriously be considering..."

"What I allow my daughter and my godson to do it my business," Sirius snapped.

"But to let them..."

"Hey, hate to break up your little party here but aren't you supposed to be having a meeting about fighting for the greater good?" Chris was back, and clearly unimpressed by the discussion that was taking place. "Only I was under the belief that this was a form of resistance. Obviously it seems I've been grossly misinformed but hey, that's fine. Hope you enjoy pain."

"Chris, we are attempting to have our meeting, and may I say that your comments are not exactly helping things along." Remus Lupin pointed out. Chris scowled.

"Hey, my dad's got a point, so you might as well take it into consideration," the calm voice of Craig spoke out. Chris' scowl grew. Luperca waved at Craig, glad to see her friend again. Craig waved back, as did the Weasley twins who were sitting beside him. The three wore similar grins. Grins that gave Luperca a small bout of paranoia. Those grins never meant good things. Then her brain, working slower today than it normally did, reminded her that they were her friends, and the grins were rather like the grin she had worn not ten minutes previously.

"Oh yeah, like I'm really gonna listen to a wand-waver who hasn't eve.."

"Chris!" Sirius snapped at the boy. Chris turned and glared sullenly at the elder male. "While you're in my house, it'll work out best if you don't insult my friends and fellow Order members."

"Even if you do?" Chris' eyebrow rose, daring Sirius to contradict him. Sirius just looked at him, not falling for the ploy. Chris sighed, "Fine I'll keep the insults to what I consider a low." He turned and looked at the assembled group. "Well come on then, show me how the wizarding world conducts a meeting."


	2. Chapter 2

Chris looked around at the table, filled with people his own age, and people older than him. His fellow teenagers stared at him, like he was an experiment to be studied. He hated that feeling, returning their stares with glares of his own.

"That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet," the soft mutterings continued, Chris blocking them out as soon as they came. He had heard it all before, knew each for before they were spoke. He studied the people who he was currently in the room with, in the way he assumed they were studying him. He guessed that the red heads were all the one family, and that the two light brunette males were father and son. His eyes passed over all of these people, scanning them for something to make them memorable.

His eyes fell upon a black haired boy with glasses. Chris had done his homework before making himself known to the Order, he knew exactly who this boy was, and why he was seemingly important. Chris surveyed the boy, Harry his name was, if he remembered correctly. Chris snorted loudly, earning himself angry gazes from the arguing adults at the table. He rolled his eyes, laying back and placing his feet on the table, an action which would have drew a loud tut from the mother hen of the red-headed teens, were she in the room. He bit back a laugh.

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked swiftly. Chris looked up and over at him. An uneasy feeling feel over the table. Sirius and Remus exchange what could only be describe as the most fleeting of looks as the others, without consciously thinking of the action, moved in closer to the table, almost as though they were blocking out anyone else hearing the conversation.

Sirius was the one to answer Harry, though his answer was deliberately oblique. "Stuff he can only get by stealth." Harry continued to looked puzzled. Chris frowned. From what he knew, and he knew quite a bit, Voldemort wasn't a big fan of stealth. Neither was his boss, now he came to think of it. "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time." Sirius explained further.

"When he was powerful before?" Harry asked, his mind trying to piece things together. Chris sat straight in his chair, placing his feet on the ground.

"Expect its not just Voldemort now, you may think it, but snake-lover isn't the most powerful out there," he pointed out, his dislike of Voldemort leading to him using one of the many nicknames he had created for the dark wizard. "I mean if it were just him, it'd be simple. The right potion, the right words, boom he's dust." The table stared at him. "Okay many not that simple," Chris relented.

Harry frowned at Chris. "Not just Voldemort?" He questioned, feeling confusion and the faintest ebbing of fear strike him. Chris smirked, not helping how Harry felt at all. "What do you mean its not just Voldemort anymore?"

"Well there is the slight complication of.."

"That's enough!" Mrs Weasley's voice shrieked from the shadows. She stepped into the dim light of the kitchen, trembling with anger as she glared at Chris. "You have created enough fear for one night. They're just children!"

"And I'm not?" He snapped at her. Molly glared furiously.

"You are not my responsibility Chris, they are. You have actively involved yourself in this war for too long, there is nothing we can do to get you out of it. But you are _not_ going to pull people into a war they aren't ready for." Molly spoke in such a tone that no-one who knew better dared to speak out against her. The instinct of the mother to protect her children had increased in Molly, and no-one wanted to be on the receiving end of her wrath,.

"The war is here, how can they not get involved in something that's alread..."

"I said that's enough! Now all of you, bed." Molly said. The group still at school jumped up from their seats, and scrambled towards the door, running towards the stairs. Chris remained fixed in his seat, glaring defiantly at Molly Weasley.

"If you keep protecting them like this, they're gonna end up dead," he informed her snidely, before orbing out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well if it isn't the great and good Christopher descending from on high to mingle with us commoners," was the greeting that Chris heard when he had to come his destination. Chris looked to find the source of the voice. It had come from a tall dark-haired witch with pale skin and high cheekbones. He had to admit, albeit however reluctantly he swore it was, she was attractive. "Did the white hats let you off your leash?"

"It's you who enjoys being treated like a dog Sid, not me." Chris remarked, walking at a quick pace towards a destination that he was not sure if he would be welcome in. Sid fell into step beside him.

"Now Chris you know those were just rumours," Sid chastised him. Chris smirked

"Then how do you explain the pictures?" Sid's eyes widened. Chris smirked and opened the doors they had arrived at, leaving Sid standing, slack-jawed and staring, outside. He walked briskly inside, ignoring the glares he recieved from many of the people inside. He strode purposefully towards the chair at the far end of the room, his eyes level with the man sitting on it.

He smirked openly at him, not bothering with the usual signs of respect others gave him. "I believe you are sitting in my chair, dearest one," Chris remarked with the confidence of one who knows his opponent cannot win. The hand of the current occupier of the chair twitched, obviously ready to reach for a weapon of some sort. Chris waited, keeping eye contact easily. The man glared at him once more, before standing and vacating the seat.

Chris moved quickly, settling himself in the ornately carved chair, his feet resting on the large table in front of the chair, a look which can only be described as cocky arrogance gracing his features. He looked out at the people in front of him. "Oh, by all means, don't stop your little meeting on my account. Continue," he added somewhat lazily, more interested in a small cut on the side of his finger.

The Death Eater glared. "I would rather think that you are not considered higher than me, child." Chris looked up at him.

"Clearly, you have not been briefed. I'm considered higher than everyone in this room, you necro," he commented. The atmosphere of the room, already dark, grew darker. The Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably. Chris stared at the one who had dared to confront him. "I suggest that work research exactly who it is you work for."

The Death Eaters continued to look at Chris, who had gone back to his lazy perching. The doors at the other end of the room opened once more and the mummers created by Chris' entrance stopped at once. A pale figure in flowing dark robes walked across the room, flanked by Sid, whom Chris had been talking to earlier. The pale figure stood impressively in front of Chris, who had returned to inspect the cut on his finger.

"You are in my seat," the pale figure hissed. Chris didn't even look up.

"I'm in my chair Tom, yours is that one there," he commented. Voldemort's already dark gaze, grew into a murderous glare. "And don't take that look with me Tom, you know you always come out worse for it." Voldemort, still glaring, sat in the seat he had been motioned to, Sid sat in the one across from him. Chris rolled his eyes, the Death Eaters had been bowing and scraping at the sight of their leader and Chris never was one for bowing to people. It was a trait that had landed him in trouble often enough. His eyes flickered over to Sid, or Sidney Lestrange to give her her full name. She sat straight, sure of herself in this crowded room. Her position in the organization protected her, as well as other things. Chris smirked.

"So, Sid _darling_ ," he began, his voice loud and his tone obnoxious, "is the dear Source still fucking you, or has it progressed to 'twu luw'?" He inquired, his face a picture of innocence. A hush fell over the room. Voldemort rose from his seat slightly.

"How dare you, Christopher..."

"What? Insult the family honour? Considering that she's technically a bastard of a child Tom, you can't pull the honour card on me," Chris didn't even blink as he broke down any argument the Dark Lord may have thrown at him. "And anyway, its not like it's a lie." he pointed out, his voice softer now, leading to a furious blush from Sid.

"Christopher just because you have fallen from his favour doesn't mean you have to share secrets of others favour with him!" She spat at Chris, the smirk still clear on his face. She continued to glare at him, carefully avoiding her father's gaze. Chris' smirk deepened.

"Who says I've fallen from favour?" Chris challenged Sid, who had no proof to her claim. "You think just because I've not been here the past week, I've fallen from favour?" He scoffed loudly. "I was on what we big people call a mission little Sidders," he mocked, "a mission that your fuck buddy gave to me." Sid's blush grew, as did Voldemort's glare,

"And what, pray tell, would this mission be, Christopher?" He hissed, feeling the need to bring the discussion back to a safer topic. Chris turned and looked at Voldemort. The look was incredulous, asking why Voldemort wanted to know. The Dark Lord's eyes rolled. "I supposed I am not to be privy to details of this mission?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful," he hissed, sarcasm once again making its appearance in his own speech. Chris looked over.

"Sarcasm? Why Tommy you're learning," he crowed. Voldemort glared. "Oh yeah," Chris spoke as though just remembering something, "turns out you're not a stealthy as you think Tom."

Voldemort frowned, knowing from experience that he would gain no further explanation than what had already been said. His mind worked, in order to understand what it was that Chris was referring to, and to what it was he actually meant. While he was doing this, Chris stood up from the table.

"Well guys and dolls, what can I say? It's been real," he threw the Death Eaters a peace sign. "Make love not war guys," he remarked. He moved over towards the door.

"Christopher," the voice of Voldemort spoke out once again. Chris turned his head to face the man. "The Source is beginning to wonder about you, about where your loyalties truly lie." Chris blinked, slightly taken aback by the statement

A small, and tired looking, but still beautiful smile graced his face. "I don't expect him to do anything but wonder," he informed Voldemort, before orbing out.


	4. Chapter 4

"...All I'm saying is that he's odd!" The voice of Ronald Weasley cut through the darkness that Chris arrived in. "I mean did you see him at the meeting, he only cheered up when weapons were mentioned!" Ron continued loudly. Chris sighed, sitting himself on the top of the staircase. He had been expecting them to share theories about him, he had assumed they would have been a little quieter about it all.

"Ron you can be seriously suggesting that.." Harry's voice drifted through the door. Though not at loud as his friend's voice, he was still speaking too loudly for a time of night when most would be sleeping.

"What if I am?" Chris rolled his eyes. Wand-wavers always had a talent for making the most simple of statements seem so over dramatic. He assumed that it was due to the show that waving a damn wand made. He sighed again, running his hand through his hair, making it more of a mess than it already was. He leaned against the wall slightly, feeling the tiredness he had been fighting off hit him. His mind searched for the last time he had slept properly and came up blank. He had slept, but not properly. Not a full eight hours, something always came up.

"You know if you plan to sleep out here you're gonna have a sore neck mate," a soft voice spoke to him. Chris turned his head only slightly, not really that interested. "I mean it doesn't bother me but it is a pain to try to walk over someone in the morning," Craig Lupin continued, sitting down beside Chris.

"Did I give you permission to sit beside me?" Chris snapped, not in the mood for company. Craig smiled pleasantly at him, which earned a scowl from Chris.

"No but considering this is Sirius' place, I don't think its your permission I need...Chris was it?" He inquired, a polite smile gracing his features. "I'm Craig Lupin, Remus' son, and teenage werewolf" he explained, giving a slight grin. Chris looked over, inwardly fighting with interest attempting to slide into his features.

"A werewolf?" He asked, making sure he sounded as unimpressed as possible. It was an act though, he had never really met a werewolf before and was slightly interested in the mythology of them.

"Yeah, I was born one." Craig smiled, glad to see he had managed somehow to get through to this strange boy.

"Born a werewolf?" Chris questioned, a frown line appearing between his eyes. "But that rarely happens," he muttered softly. Craig picked up on it, there were perks to being a werewolf, fantastic hearing being one of them. Most of the time.

"I know. It's like a one in fifty case. Unlucky me right?" He laughed. "No seriously, I'm used to it. I mean there's stuff out there to help me that wasn't there when my dad became one so I'm pretty grateful." He smiled once more. Chris stared. Craig frowned, self conscious. "What?"

"Do you take something to be that damn chipper or is it just a natural thing wereboy?" Chris questioned. Craig opened his mouth then closed it again.

"Wereboy?" He asked, finally deciding what he was going to say. Chris rolled his eyes.

"Yes, because a stupid nickname is the main point to focus on in any conversation," he muttered softly. He would never really work out certain people, though he guessed he would amused himself by trying to.

"Craig? Craig you out her...oh. Look. It's the prick," a feminine voice had joined them out in the hall. "Do you make a habit of being where people don't want to see you, or is this just an unfortunate accident?" Luperca asked in her sweetest tone of voice. Craig began to look uncomfortable. Chris smirked over at the girl.

"Listen, sweets," he began. Luperca cut him off.

"Sweets? And at what point did I turn into a piece of confectionary?"She snapped. Chris' smirk grew. This was interesting. He held her gaze, surprised to see that she was easily holding his own. It was then that he remembered that these particular wizards didn't know who he was and therefore were not scared of him.

"Well you do eat a lot of sweets Lu, and you know, they say you are what you eat," Craig offered his explanation with a crooked grin. Lu turned and smiled at her friend, a sweet smile that, for some reason, had Craig looking distinctly worried.

"Then why, my darling dear Craig, why are you not a cute white little fluffy _bunny_?" Luperca kept up her sweet smile, as Craig began to twitch and shudder, muttering under his breath. Chris frowned, looking at the young werewolf intently. He then turned to Luperca, working out quickly that he would get no sense out of Craig. "He has bunny fear," Luperca supplied, shrugging slightly.

"Oh," was all Chris to think to say. How did you reply to a statement like that? He turned to look at Craig, who was still muttering to himself. "I'm guessing it's one of those deep rooted fears right?" He drawled, feeling bored with the situation.

"Yeah, well I think so. He's been terrified of them for as long as I've known him," Luperca shrugged once again. She looked at her friend, "Craig, Craig go to bed," she suggested. The boy in question looked at her and blinked, nodding. He stood up and walked back into his room. "That boy really needs to learn to relax."

"In the middle of a war? You've got more chance of Tommy learning to water-ski," was the dry reply from Chris. He allowed himself a small half smile half smirk at Luperca's attempt not to snort. He looked over at the blonde, who had to be have been roughly his height, maybe an inch or two shorter. He wasn't sure if she was what you could call pretty in the traditional sense, but she wasn't exactly plain either. Of course, it could just be his, admittedly, tends-to-follow-the-one-track-at-certain-times-of-night brain just playing up. He stood up rapidly, causing Luperca to turn and stare at him.

"Nothing against you Sweets, the conversation is riveting after all, but I'm gonna go crash on a bed. Something about the body actually needing to rest to function," he turned towards one of the empty rooms, and paused.

"Night then Prick, hope the bedding strangles you," Luperca called to him. Chris grinned, this girl could be fun.

"Dream of me Sweets."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter had awoken unusually early for once. It was the morning after his arrival at Grimmauld Place and he enjoyed waking up in a room that was not in Number 4 Privet Drive. The further away he was from the Dursleys, and the closer to the wizarding world he was, the happier he felt. He dressed quickly and silently, leaving the sleeping forms of Ron and Craig in their own respective beds as he left the room.

His footsteps seemed to be too loud in the silence of the old house. Harry had never been awake this early before, and he was only now wishing that he had just stayed in his bed until he had heard someone else moving around. When he reached the front hall, he found himself walking as quietly as he could, for fear of disturbing the portrait of Mrs Black. Once was enough he had decided. He made his descent to the kitchen, becoming aware that it wasn't just him awake.

"Listen Molly," Harry could hear the drawl of the American as he neared the kitchen, "this is a war we're in the middle of, and it ain't likely to be won by a big headed teenage guy who got lucky as a baby, aided by a crazy old coot of a headmaster, and two lanky sidekicks who have so much damn sexual tension between them you could light Las Vegas till the end of the world with the energy it gives out."

Harry opened the door, offended for himself, his headmaster, and his friends. He found Chris in the exact seat and pose he had been in the night previously, and Mrs Weasley staring at him with a fury he had never known her to possess. Harry looked towards Chris, who had donned a smirk and was looking at his fingernails with such a casual air that Harry was convinced that nothing could have distracted him from his inspection. Mrs Weasley turned slightly at the sound of the door opening, and blinked, "Oh, hello, Harry dear, we didn't expect anyone to be awake. You sit yourself down and I'll make you some breakfast, okay?" She spoke with her usual kind nature, though there was still that air of anger that had possessed her not five minutes before.

Harry sat down at the table, a few seats away from Chris who was now reading the newspaper that had been left on the table. Harry looked over at the boy who, he could only assume, was the same age as him. "Erm...hi," he tried, making an effort of friendship with the unknown. Chris looked over his paper, an eyebrow raised and a look of not being impressed at being interrupted on his face. "I'm Harry," Harry said, raising a weak smile.

Chris snorted. "Yeah think most of the free magical world knows that one," he shook his head and returned to the paper. Harry frowned. Okay so that hadn't gone as well as he might have hoped, but he could always try again.

"So, you're from America?" He tried again, grasping at one of the few facts he already knew about Chris.

"No, I'm actually from Kent. I just put the accent on 'cause girls like it. God, Potter are you completely brain dead?" Chris drawled across at him, this time not even bothering to look out from behind whatever article it was that had gained the majority of his attention. Harry heard the loud tut from Mrs Weasley, obviously disapproving of the way Chris interacted with others. "We've already had this conversation Molly, I'm not having it again," Chris dismissed the tut. "I'm not here to make friends and even if I was," Chris paused, turning a critical eyes over Harry who found himself squirming in his seat, "there is no way in hell I would become friends with wonder boy over there."

Mrs Weasley slammed the pot which she had been holding on to the kitchen counter. Harry jumped slightly at the action. "Harry," she spoke through gritted teeth, "would you please go and wake the rest of them. Breakfast is almost ready." Harry leaped out of his seat and ran out of the kitchen, having no desire to see Mrs Weasley's upcoming rage on Chris.

"I don't know who you think you are Chris," Mrs Weasley began, glaring at the boy, "but that was completely uncalled for." Chris looked over, sighing slightly. It had been a while since he had been through the parental scolding, the last time someone had tried to 'scold' him, he had orbed out halfway through their first sentence. He debated with himself the merits here of orbing out but could see none. So he resigned himself to sitting in the kitchen, muting out Molly's voice.

"Molly, I don't think he's listening to you," another voice joined the shrill tones of Molly. Chris turned his head only slightly, the tall figure of Sirius just visible from the edge of his eye. "He has that glazed over look, and if memory serves me, that's the look of not listening," Sirius smiled kindly, if somewhat forced. Obviously he and Molly were still not on exact speaking terms. He came over to the table, sitting himself down in the nearest empty chair. Chris frowned over at him, not quite sure what to make of him. "Are you planning on apologizing for...whatever it is Molly's giving you into trouble for?" Sirius asked, keeping eye contact with the boy.

Chris snorted. "If I was I'd need to apologize for a helluva lot," he stated simply. Molly fumed silently, unused to a child showing a new level of rudeness to her. Yes, Fred and George could be handfuls at times, but she was certain that they were never downright rude for no reason. "Let's face it, I'm a rude little boy. If I start to apologize now, I'll never stop. And in my line of work, that really isn't the angle you look for."

"Your line of work?" Molly's curiosity broke through her anger. When it came down to it, she didn't know much about this boy. No one did. He had just shown up at the beginning of the summer, offering them information which they had sorely needed. No one had been willing to let him in, it had disturb them how he had managed to find a place which only a select few knew of. His only response when question on how he had found them was that he could find anything and anyone if he looked hard enough. Molly didn't trust him.

"Yeah, you know, arrogantly pretty," Chris shrugged, an amused look clear on his face. "I think I should get a pay rise. No one does arrogantly pretty as well as me," he smirked again. A muffled laugh was heard. Both Chris and Molly turned to face Sirius, who was determinedly gazing down at the old wooden table, making sure his eye was not caught. Molly sighed, and turned back towards the pots and pans. She put her mind on making the breakfast, concentrating on the cooking. It relaxed her slightly.

"Chris, you know, in polite company we use these things called manners, they're meant to make people like us," Sirius spoke slowly, as if he were talking to a young child. He recieved a glare in return. Sirius began to wonder if he had something wrong.

"Manners don't exactly work when there's a knife pressed against your throat," Chris spoke lowly, dangerously. Molly stopped in her work, standing still, obviously listening intently. Sirius frowned at the words, unwilling to believe them.

"And you would know this how?" He heard himself asking Chris, his tone light and hopeful. Surely Chris was just making his life sound more impressive, trying to make excuses for his own deliberate rudeness. There was no answer from Chris, but his gaze remained on Sirius. "Chris, how do you know this?" Sirius asked once again, this time with concern in his tone, worried about what the answer might be.

Chris pushed his seat back from the table, allowing his feet to drop to the floor. His hand reached for the collar of the long sleeve top he wore, always long sleeves, pulling it till his collarbone was visible. Three long red scars lay there, each one showing pain and standing out angrily on the pale skin. "How do you think I know?" Chris asked, no emotion in his voice. Molly had turned from her pots and pans, no longer feigning work.

"Who?" Sirius asked, examining the scars as well as he could from his seat. Chris let go of the collar, which drooped slightly, having been stretched.

"Someone who was overly concerned about the use of manners," came the dry, bitter reply. Sirius nodded slightly in response, while Molly turned back towards the food, feeling a twinge of motherly compassion towards the boy who less than ten minutes ago she had felt nothing but anger towards. Chris stared down at the table, before moving silently towards the door. He ripped it open and stopped in his tracks.

"Ah, Christopher, just the person who I had come to see," a frail old man smiled indulgently towards Chris, who frowned and looked him up and down.

"Oh great," he snapped, "it's the crazy old coot come to play." Dumbledore gave a soft laugh, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the kitchen doorway. Chris let go of the door, letting it close, hoping it would shut the old wizard out but unfortunately for him, Dumbledore made his way inside before the door had fully closed on him.

"Please sit down Christopher, I have business I wish to discuss with you," Dumbledore spoke as he drew a chair of his own with his wand. Chris stared, not moving from his spot. Dumbledore sat down in the chair he had drawn up, and leant forward slightly, his finger tips pressed together. Chris sighed, and sat on the table, rasing his eyebrow expectantly at the wizard who had accepted his presence here. Dumbledore smiled again, obviously amused by Chris.

"Now Christopher," he began before Chris cut him off.

"Listen Gandalf," he began, staring at the ceiling and returning to his bored tone of voice, "I'll listen to you if you insist on talking to me. But don't call me Christopher," he finished, still inspecting the ceiling. "Call it a personal preference," he added, shrugging lightly. Dumbledore bowed his head once.

"Now _Chris_ ," he amended his earlier sentence, and since there was no interjection from Chris himself, Dumbledore took this to be the preferred term of address. "As you may well be aware of, children of magical backgrounds in this country are excepted to attend some form of school until they come of age, which here happens to be 17. I believe it is 18 in America?" He questioned, with no response. He coughed before continuing. "It is because of this that we need to consider what will happen to you once September arrives. Obviously, from what we have learned, you cannot return to the American Magic School so the most readily available route to us is to have you transferred into Hogwarts where you will ente..."

"Wait, have me transferred where?" Chris gave a loud laugh. "Hell no, I'm done with school Gandalf," he insisted, "and there's no way I'm going into some stupid boarding school." Dumbledore gave another short laugh. Chris dimly noted that his words had never been considered this amusing before.

"Chris, I am sorry to inform you that the law requires you to attend some sort of schooling," he explained in a kindly tone. Chris rolled his eyes. It always came down to some law or another. "Now, you will be sorted before the first years," Dumbledore spoke again, before having Chris interrupt him once more.

"I'm sorry obviously you didn't hear me. I don't need to be sorted before anyone because I'm not going to your school. I don't care if I'm required, I'm not going," he stated as bluntly as he possibly could.

"Chris, I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but it is either attend the school or face the authorities," Dumbledore spoke as kindly as he could, hoping to soften the blow. "You may end up in serious trouble."

"Nothing new there," Chris shrugged.

"I'm afraid this time it may be," Dumbledore informed him. "The last child who refused schooling had their powers stripped from them." Chris' eyes widened only slightly at this information. As shallow as it may have sounded, Chris couldn't have his powers stripped from him. Ignoring the fact that his magic was a major part of him, he needed his magic to complete his mission.

"Fine, fine," he groaned, standing up from the table. "I'll go to the stinkin' school," he informed his now soon-to-be headmaster. Dumbledore gave a pleasant smile.

"A wise choice Chris," he told the boy. Chris gave his typical scowl in response, and moved back towards the door, opening it so he could leave the room. He turned to face the three in the room

"Just don't expect me to do any damn work," he gave a twisted smile, before letting the door slam behind him. As the shrieks of the portrait started up, Sirius turned to Dumbledore.

"Do you think, perhaps, Chris is not ready for Hogwarts?" Dumbledore enquired of Sirius, who gave a wry grin to his old head teacher.

"Actually, I think it's Hogwarts that isn't ready for Chris."


	6. Chapter 6

The morning that the Hogwarts letters finally arrived, Chris was deliberately absent from the euphoria created by Ron and Hermione receiving the Gryffindor prefect badges. He had holed himself up in an untouched room, staring at the thick, yellow parchment in his hand, with a heavy scowl on his face. When he had first approached the Order he had never pictured himself being conscripted into schooling. He had been expelled from Magic School two years ago, shortly after the event, and he hadn't stepped foot in a school since. He had no desire to go to Hogwarts, everything that he had learned about the place had just made it seem all the more unappealing to him.

He supposed that his aversion to school was partly due to laziness. If he was anything, Chris was smart. He just happened to have a problem with being forced to learn something when all he wanted to do was nothing. He glared down at the parchment, wishing that one of his powers happened to be some sort of control over fire. He sighed, and pushed a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes, making a mental note to see about getting it cut. Long hair may have looked very cool, but having it in his eyes all the time really wasn't practical in his line of work. Mind you, did he really want to be in this line of work? Fighting all the time was slightly on this side of cool, but it was tiring and dangerous, Chris couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a dreamless sleep. And it wasn't likely that he would get one any time in the near future.

Chris closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall behind him, listening to the slightly muffled voices of the Golden Trio. They seemed to worry about the smallest things, he missed that, he supposed. He couldn't really remember if he ever had the chance to worry over the smallest things, all he could remember were demon attacks. And fairy tales. A small smile played over his lips. In the midst of all the fighting and attacks, there were always the fairy tales. Past lives really, but tales all the same. He gave a soft chuckle, what a weird time to remember being told fairy tales. He smiled at the memory though, a small secret smile that no one else would get to see.

His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding Chris of the obvious flaw in his plan of staying in the room - there was no food or water in there. Deciding that his need for nourishment outweighed his hope to avoid the annoying people who lived here, Chris made his descent downstairs.

Opening the kitchen door, Chris saw Mrs Weasley darting around the room, trying to attend to at least 10 different things all at once. In the corner lay a pile of bags containing all the school supplies every student under this roof needed for the upcoming school year. Mrs Weasley turned to face the door, obviously expecting to see someone else there. "Oh hello Chris dear," she smiled politely. Since he had shown both her and Sirius some of the scars he had, Mrs Weasley had been overly nice to him, feeling pity for the boy who she assumed had been through so much. "Haven't see you all day," she commented lightly, causing Chris to frown and look at his watch. According to it, it was roughly 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

"Well, yeah, I've been busy," Chris said, silently wondering where the time had gone. He wandered over to the counter-top where Mrs Weasley had been making piles upon piles of different types of snack foods. His stomach growled slightly, reminding Chris exactly why he had come downstairs when he had finally managed to find a room which no-one dared enter. He picked up a cookie from a plate and bit into it. Almost instantly he wished he hadn't. He spit out the cookie bit into the nearest bin, wiping his mouth, and showing his disgust. "Molly, offence meant here, you make rotten cookies," he said, depositing the rest of the cookies into the bin, much to Mrs Weasley's horror.

"Chris! Those were for the party tonight" Mrs Weasley chided him, sounding tired. Chris looked over at the woman, feeling what he assumed was a small pang of pity for her. She was expected to do everything for her family, for this household, and no-one seemed to be willing to come and lend even the smallest amount of help. "I don't have any time to make a new batch," she fretted, still darting about the kitchen, which seemed oddly small with the speed of her movement. Chris rolled his eyes, and shook his head, fighting away the feeling of pity. He knew why he felt it, it was too obvious. If he hadn't been musing on the past earlier he knew he wouldn't have been feeling pity, but he was. He wondered why it happened that in the one place he had to be, he would find someone who would remind him of her.

Mrs Weasley continued to bustle around the kitchen, worrying over the tiniest things. Chris gave a small secret half smirk, and made his way over to the bowl with the leftover cookie making ingredients. He picked up a clean bowl and began throwing in ingredients, mixing up cookies in the way that only a Halliwell knew how. He worked quickly and quietly, enjoying the fact that he didn't need to use any of his powers. Mrs Weasley stopped in her tracks at one point, staring at him, He smirked over at her. "My mom was a chef, I knew how to cook cookies by the time I was 10," he explained, stirring the cookie mixture. Mrs Weasley continued to stare, Chris would have laughed if the small pang of pity would have let him.

"Well...I…um…thank you Chris," Mrs Weasley beamed at Chris, making him squirm uncomfortably. He wasn't making the cookies for praise, he just thought the ones she had made were awful. And, to be honest, he quite liked being able to do something normal, even if just for a small amount of time. Just like his mother (though he would deny it). He continued to stir, beating out his slight frustrations on the cookie mix. Sooner than he would have hoped, he was placing the cookies into the oven, waiting for them to be cooked. He perched himself on top of the table, musing lightly on the slight irony of a 'pure', proud wizarding home having what was clearing a muggle style oven. He sat, watching the oven, and sometimes watching Mrs Weasley and her frantic movements. "Molly, you're not exactly the Flash," he commented dryly, looking down at an old scar on the back of his hand with interest.

Mrs Weasley frowned at the statement, expecting a fuller explanation from Chris. Chris simply rolled his eyes, if she didn't get the reference he wasn't going to sit and explain it to her. He look back at the stove, the freshly bake cookies smell filling the kitchen. Chris allowed himself a small smirk as he took the cookies from the oven. Mrs Weasley paused in her rushing to look at them from over his shoulder, causing Chris to shove a cookie into her mouth - he really wasn't one for niceties. After stopping herself from choking, Mrs Weasley chewed on the confectionary good, finding herself to be pleasantly surprised. She turned to speak to Chris, having turned away from the teenager while stopping herself from chocking, but the boy wasn't there.

 **XXX**

Chris was suspiciously absent from the party that night as well. It was almost as if, as the whispers suggested, he hated being in large companies. Of course no-one would admitted this in a normal tone of voice, so it stayed in whispers. The cookies, however, went down a storm, and didn't stay on their plates very long. Everyone congratulated Mrs Weasley, who thought it wise to keep quiet about Chris' talent. She may not have known that boy all that well, but she was sure that he would not care for the members of the Order knowing he could cook. That was the only part of the mystery of Chris which she felt was true.

 **XXX**

Chris, himself, sat in the unused room he had been in earlier that morning. Only this time he wasn't as alone as he might have hoped. Bright flames, filled one corner of the room, touching everything but harming nothing at the same time. "You are a hard person to find," the person who stepped from the flames remarked, looking around the room with a looked of fake wonderment.

Chris glared at the figure. "Ever figure I don't want to be found?" He drawled at the man, who gave a soft chuckle, clearly amused by Chris. "Thought I'd banished you," Chris muttered, still glaring towards this man.

"Oh you tried, but as history shows Chris, I'm not one for staying…away, shall we say?" The man spoke with a half smile on his face, well aware that his just being there was incredibly annoying to Chris.

"And the setting you on fire, that obviously didn't have an effect?" Chris questioned, barely interested in what had worked and what hadn't worked. The man paused, thinking over his answer. He shrugged lightly.

"Depends on your definition of 'effect'," he admitted lightly, a hand going up to rub his shoulder where some of the burn tissue hadn't knitted back together properly. Not even a smirked crossed Chris' face at this news. The man sighed lightly. "They're worried about you," he told the teen.

Chris snorted. "Don't lie, they don't give a damn," he said. "All they care is that the great and good Warren line might not be all that great and good anymore," he told the man, keeping eye contact and letting his scorn show.

The man smiled, obviously not fazed by Chris' tactics. "You know I don't agree with them Chris, but I am sort of under contract with them so I can't actually say anything against them," here the man gave his own small scowl, regretting the terms of his current state. However, needs must and he had to be having some sort of success - he hadn't been thrown out a window on appearance this time.

"Yeah must suck, working for the people who'll turn on you the minute your jobs done," Chris commented lightly. He turned to look at the man, his familiar smirk finding its way once more on to his face. "You really do have the shittest luck Cole."

Cole looked toward Chris, his own half grin back. "So I'm getting referred to by my name now, well this is a nice change. I must be getting somewhere with you Chris," he remarked lightly, careful not to push his luck. Chris didn't respond so Cole dropped the matter. Through the door he could hear the muffled sounds of the party. He nodded towards the sound. "Sounds like they're having quite the party down there," he said, making sure not to make eye contact with Chris. "Ever considered going down and joining them?"

The glare he received from Chris was enough to make Cole drop the subject immediately. "Why the hell are you here Cole?" Chris asked, sounding bored. Cole sighed, he didn't have any reason for being there, other than to make sure Chris hadn't done something stupid. "If you haven't got a reason then go Cole, I don't want you here." Chris spoke coldly, no emotions in his voice. Cole nodded his head once and began to flame out. Just as he was leaving, he remembered one thing.

"Good luck at Hogwarts kid."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ust a quick notice to say that if you recognise it, I don't own it. And if you have a question about Tear It Up, review and I will do best my answer it. And also thanks to all reveiwers! And on with the chapter...

"You know, this place is really...shit," Chris announced loudly, surveying at Kings Cross Station over the top of the sunglasses he had shoved on his face that morning. A look of annoyance crossed Mrs Weasley's face, but since the party she had not really spoken to Chris, and she wasn't sure if giving him into trouble in the middle of a busy London train station was the best way to start a conversation.

A nearby huge black dog turned and growled at Chris, obviously not happy with the language used either. Chris smirked. "Down boy, don't want me to call the dog-catchers on you, do ya now Scooby?" he asked, making eye contact with the dog, who as Chris well knew, was really Sirius. The dog growled once more, then turned round to face his godson and his daughter. Chris rolled his eyes. "What a sickening display of family time," he muttered lightly, thinking Sirius stupid for risking capture just to see two annoying brats off to school. He turned to look at the red train that was to take him to his new school with a severe scowl. To put it simply he wasn't looking forward to it.

Hearing the rest of the group behind him begin to make their goodbyes was Chris' signal to quickly board the train the train. He stepped forward onto the train without looking behind him, as he had a funny feeling he might have been pulled into a hug if he did. And that was definitely _not_ something that he wanted. He began walking through the narrow aisle of the train, peering into the different compartments along the way. Near the end of the train he came across an almost empty compartment save one girl. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. But apart from her the compartment was empty, and since she seemed to be absorbed in her magazine, Chris saw no harm in sitting in that compartment.

He pulled open the door and sat down in one of the seats. The girl looked over her magazine at him. "There's a Nargle at your ear," she commented lightly.

Chris blinked.

 **XXX**

After being left by Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny had thought it wise to try to find a compartment for the four of them. At the very last carriage of the train, they came across Neville Longbottom who had also been having difficulty finding a compartment to sit in. "Hi Harry. Hi Ginny … every where's full … I can't find a seat …" he had greeted them. Ginny found this to be slightly odd, and squeezed past Neville to look in the compartment behind him.

"What are you talking about," she questioned him, looking into the compartment "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in there and…" here she paused, puzzled at what she saw, "…And Chris."

Harry pushed past Neville, ignoring his question of who Chris was, to look into the compartment for himself. As Ginny had said, there was Chris sitting with the girl Ginny had called Loony. What was surprising, to Harry at least, was that Chris seemed to be involved in what could pass as a civil conversation. Shrugging slightly, Harry slid the door opened, and helped Ginny to pull the trunks inside. Neville followed them, still unsure about whom Chris was.

Chris turned at the sound of the door opening, and scowled at the people who entered. "Oh look, it's the Scooby Gang, tell me, solved any mysteries lately?" He looked closer at the group. "Wonder Boy, you're missing your two lanky sidekicks. Don't tell me they finally gave into temptation and are currently screwing each other in the bathroom?"

Harry glared, while Ginny and Neville blushed, at Chris' words. Chris didn't seem bothered by these reactions, choosing to stand up and walk towards the door. "Lunar, loved the chat, we gotta do it again sometime. You're like a drug, I don't understand a freakin' word when I talk to you," he drawled. Luna gave a small smile towards Chris, which drew an eye rolling from the boy.

"Are you not staying then, Chris?" Harry asked, once again trying to make friends with the stranger whom he had spent time with at the summer. Chris looked over his sunglasses, which were still on, at Harry, one eyebrow raised. Harry began to realise the absurdity of his question.

"Wonder boy, let me say this slowly, you might actually get it that way," Chris started. "No. Freakin'. Way. Am. I. Going. To. Spend. More. Time. With. You. Than. I. Am. Fuckin'. Made. To." As he spoke, Chris punctuated each sentence by holding up a finger as if counting the words off. When he was done he simply stepped out of the compartment, and began walking through the carriages to find a new one.

It was Neville who found his voice first. "Pleasant bloke isn't he?"

 **XXX**

The hours of the journey passed, Chris wasn't sure if they passed quickly or slowly, all he knew is that they passed. After he had kicked a group of what he had assumed where incoming first years out of their compartment he had found himself lazily reading a book which he had stolen from the Wonder Boy's lanky female sidekick. The book bore the title 'Hogwarts: A History', though Chris thought it glossed over the nastier aspects of the school and made it seem like a five star hotel rather than a moulding old school. It was a good way of killing a few hours though.

Eventually he killed time by just staring out of the window, and was one of the first on the train to notice the tall spires of Hogwarts come into view. "Looks like a dump," he muttered, staring at the slightly gothic building. Slowly the train did slow down, and Chris could hear the sounds of his now fellow students gathering their things together. As the train came to a complete stop, Chris stood up, waving his hand over the book and orbing it away. If he needed it later, he would orb it back. He then joined the throng of students making their way towards what he had heard where horseless carriages.

What a pity what he had heard didn't match up with what he saw.

The creatures standing between the carriage shafts were completely fleshless, black coats clinging to their skeletons, making every bone visible. The heads were dragonish, and the pupil-less eyes where white and staring. The wings of these creatures would have looked more in place where they on a giant bat. Chris frowned and looked around himself cautiously. No one else seemed to notice these creatures. Well almost no one else.

"I can see them too," the voice of Luna drifted towards Chris' ears. He walked over in her direction, seeing her speaking to Harry, obviously both of them could see the creatures as well. "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages," Luna explained in a kind tone of voice.

"What are they?" Chris asked, coming to stand behind them, staring at the creatures with a morbid curiosity. "They look like they're dead," he commented not taking his eyes off the creatures.

"No, they're quite alive," Luna smiled. She turned to Harry and smiled faintly, "Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am," she reassured him, climbing into the carriage. Harry turned to Chris, a grin on his face, clearly amused by Luna.

"You joining us then Chris? It'll be a bit of a squeeze but I think this is the last carriage," Harry said, still grinning. Chris turned and frowned, looking as though he had never seen Harry before in his life. His head turned back to the creatures then back to face Harry. He blinked a few times before speaking.

"…What did I say about the spending time with you thing Potty? Anyone would think you had a crush on me with all the time you want me to spend with you," instantly Chris was back to his usual self. Or at least the self he showed around others. "I'll make my own way to the dammed castle. And if I'm late then b o o h o o." Harry frowned.

"I was just saying this is the last carriage…" he started rather pitifully. Chris continued to glare.

"Well wonder boy in case you haven't noticed I have got these rather long appendages that I like to call legs. Attached to them are feet. Now this is amazing but apparently with legs and feet you can do this thing called walking." Harry sighed. Chris was turning out to be as bad as Malfoy.

"Like you would say, whatever. See you at the feast I guess," he muttered, climbing into the carriage. Chris watched with a small sense of satisfaction as the strange new creatures pulled the carriage away. He was going to find out exactly what those creatures where, and if all the students at Hogwarts were as easy to annoy as Harry Potter was, he was going to have fun. Still watching the carriage going ever further away, Chris closed his eyes and orbed to the entrance of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 **XXX**

The Entrance Hall was long and, in Chris' opinion, no where near as cool as the halls in Magic School. He followed the crowd into the Great Hall, hoping to just sink into a corner somewhere. A faint ringing was echoing in his head, something which he was only slightly used to. "I'm not answering you so fuck off," he growled softly, recognising the source of the ringing, or at least the person who was causing it. The ringing persisted, Chris rolled his eyes. "I said fuck off," he muttered once more, this time the tone of his voice slightly more commanding. The ringing stopped. Chris smirked. He began to look at his surroundings, deciding that the Great Hall was nothing more than trying to be grander than it was. Although that could have just been his set in hatred to schools in general kicking in once more.

He watched as the students made their ways towards their House tables, realising that he had no idea where he was supposed to sit himself. Although he didn't consider that as high on his list of priorities, Chris was in no mood to stand for the rest of the night. He looked around, trying to find a seat but it seemed as though the benches were packed tightly. "That's expected," he muttered, leaning against the wall, and sliding down till he sat on the floor. Slowly the buzz of the Great Hall died down, and a group of new first years were brought into the room and lined up along the staff table. They looked terrified of their surroundings.

Only a few seconds later someone, who Chris assumed was a teacher in the school, entered carrying in their hands a stool upon which sat an ancient wizard's hat. The hat was heavily patched and darned, though there was a wide rip near the badly frayed brim. The stool was placed in front of the first years, with the rest of the students leaning forward expectantly. Chris frowned, just what were these people expecting this hat to do? Sprout legs and perform a dance for them?

No apparently, they were waiting for it to start it's song. Chris blinked once in mild curiosity when the wide rip near the brim of the hat open wide like a mouth, blinking again when it burst into song.

 _In times of old when I was new  
And Hogwarts barely started  
The founders of our noble school  
Thought never to be parted  
United by a common goal,  
They had the selfsame yearning,  
To make the world's best magic school  
And pass along their learning.  
'Together we will build and teach!'  
The four good friends decided  
And never did they dream that they  
Might some day be divided,  
For were there such friends anywhere  
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?  
Unless it was the second pair  
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?  
So how could it have gone so wrong?  
How could such friendships fail?  
Why, I was there and so can tell  
The whole sad, sorry tale  
Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those  
Whose ancestry is purest.'  
Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose  
Intelligence is surest_.'  
 _Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those  
With brave deeds to their name.'  
Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,  
And treat them just the same.'_

 _These differences cause little strife_

 _When first they came to light,_

 _For each of the four founders had_

 _A house in which they might_

 _Take only those they wanted, so,_

 _For instance, Slytherin,_

 _Took only pure-blood wizards_

 _Of great cunning, just like him,_

 _And only those of sharpest mind_

 _Were taught by Ravenclaw_

 _While the bravest and the boldest_

 _Went to daring Gryffindor_

 _Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

 _And taught them all she knew,_

 _Thus the houses and their founder_

 _Retained friendships firm and true._

 _So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

 _For several happy years,_

 _But then discord crept among us_

 _Feeding on our faults and fears,_

 _The houses that, like pillars four,_

 _Had once held up our school,_

 _Now turned upon each other and,_

 _Divided, sought to rule,_

 _And for a while it seemed the school_

 _Must meet an early end,_

 _What with the duelling and with fighting_

 _And the clash of friend on friend_

 _And at least there came a morning_

 _When old Slytherin departed_

 _And though the fighting then died out_

 _He left us quite downhearted._

 _And never since the founder four_

 _Were whittled down to three_

 _Have the houses been united_

 _As they once were meant to be._

 _And now the Sorting Hat is here_

 _And you all know the score:_

 _I sort you into houses_

 _Because that is what I'm for._

 _But this year I'll go further,_

 _Listen closely to my song:_

 _Though condemned I am to split you_

 _Still I worry that it's wrong,_

 _Though I must fulfil my duty_

 _And must quarter every year_

 _Still I wonder whether Sorting_

 _May not bring the end I fear_

 _Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

 _The warning history shows,_

 _For our Hogwarts is in danger_

 _From external, deadly foes_

 _And we must unite inside her_

 _Or we'll crumble from within_

 _I have told you, I have warned you …_

 _Let the Sorting now begin._

The applause which broke out over the Hall when the Hat sat motionless once more was uneasy, punctured with muttering and whispers. Chris stared at the Hat, mulling over the last few lines of its song. Personally he thought it was a slight waste to gift a hat with brains and then force it to sort students, especially when it seemed as perceptive as this particular hat. But those last few lines … that Hat seemed to be too perceptive for it's own good. If anyone were to find out about his mission … he couldn't risk it. Studying the sorting of the first year carefully, he assumed that the Hat was given some form of telepathy to communicate with the students. Interesting, but pretty run of the mill when he thought back to schooling at Magic School. He watched as the Hat would sit on top of the students head, then the rip would move silently, unreadable even by the greatest of lip readers. It would then announce in a loud voice to the whole school which house the student belonged in.

It was after watching this process a few times, well twice, that Chris turned his attention to the four different houses in Hogwarts. Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each one so different from the last, yet in a way connected. After all, bravery required cunning, cunning require intelligence, and intelligence required patience. Chris couldn't help but wonder how many other of the students in the school had managed to work this out. He assumed very few, judging by the hostility the different houses seemed to show to each other. Okay so it wasn't all out warfare, at least not yet, but it was uneasy. Even just slightly, but the unease was there. It would only take a spark to ignite a huge fire.

Even so, if he had to be sorted, Chris began to muse, he thought he'd quite like the idea of Ravenclaw. He would probably find someone in there with half a brain to talk to. Though, his persistent laziness and general attitude to work would most likely not go over well there. Gryffindor, well that was automatically a no go area. There was no way he would sit around with a bunch of goody goodies, talking over good deeds and just generally being a paragon of good. Once upon a time Gryffindor would have been his dream house at Hogwarts, it had been Mel's. But not now. Hufflepuff was out for the same reasons. Chris smirked, he had liked the sound of the founder called Hufflepuff, taking in every witch that came to her. Very fair, but it was too good for him. Far too good. That left only one house…

Chris turned to look at the green and silver bannered Slytherin house. He vaguely recognised a few of the students there, the same as he had students in the other houses. And they thought it was only Slytherin that was evil. Hah. Though he had to admit, that particular rumour about that house intrigued him. Did every student who passed through it turn evil, or was it just a generalisation due to Tommy?

The Sorting drawing to a close made Chris returned his attention to the front of the Hall. The last student, a Rose Zeller, was currently being sorted. Chris watched with mild interest as the Hat announced the girl's new 'home' was to be in Hufflepuff. He watched as the small girl walked over to the table, to be greeted warmly by her new housemates. It was almost sweet. If it didn't happen to every single student. The teacher at the front of the hall, Chris still didn't know her name, made no effort to move away. She looked back down at the list, and then looked back up and began to speak in a loud clear voice. "Chris Ha…"

"Yeah I'm here do I get a medal?" Chris called out from his position on the floor at the back of the hall. The whole student body turned as one to face him, their faces portraying their shock at the way in which Chris had addressed the teacher. The teacher in question did not give out a reaction, save for her lips growing thin.

"Come forward to be sorted at once," the teacher commanded, her chin raised in authority. Chris smirked, standing up slowly, and sauntering up to the front of the room as slowly as he could. "Sit on the stool," the teacher instructed Chris when he finally reached the front of the Hall. Saluting the teacher in a sarcastic manner, Chris sat down on the stool.

"I hope that thing's been disinfected. I don't wanna catch nits of the snotty little brats who just came here," he said casually. The teacher ignored him as she placed the hat on top of his head. Chris rolled his eyes at how theatrical she made the simple act seem.

' _Well the world does love a show,'_ a soft voice spoke in his head. Chris smirked, the Hat chuckled softly. _'Why what dark thoughts, now lets look here and see where you should go.'_

' _I'll tell ya what, put me in Slytherin and I'll make sure you get disinfected,'_ Chris said mentally to the hat. _'It's really a win-win situation,'_ he continued, his smirk still firm on his face. The Hat gave another soft chuckle, amused by Chris' efforts.

' _I see a great thirst for knowledge, but also a great tendency to slack off. No patience and your loyalty is…offered to the highest bidder?'_ Chris shrugged at the Hat's statement, neither confirming it or denying it. _'Ah your cunning is to be admired, young witch, but it is your bravery that shines true,'_ the Hat finished.

' _What bravery? I'm an idiot who gets by on luck alone. And I wanna be in Slytherin,'_ Chris finished, his smirk disappearing. There was no response from the Hat. _'You listening to me you mouldy piece of cloth? I wanna be in Slytherin.'_ Again there was no response from the Hat. Chris' eyes narrowed, wondering just what the hat was up to. He looked around at the students in the hall, who eyes were fixed on the Hat. Chris assumed the rip had opened once more. He waited, preparing himself to move over to the Slytherin table. He waited …

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"NO FUCKIN' WAY!"

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another little notice to say that if you recognise it, it doesn't belong to me. Keep reviewing please! I have a feeling I'll be bombared with the same question after this chapter has been read...

Chris' outburst brought gasps of horror from all around the hall, especially from those he had spent summer with as they had never heard him go above the volume of his usual drawl. He ripped the Sorting Hat from his head, furious at himself for losing his temper. Calming himself down slightly, he turned and handed the hat back to the teacher, who seemed too shocked to speak. "I think the thing needs throwing out, or at least dousing the flames," he said, gritting his teeth and forcing his voice to remain steady and not show his anger. The teacher dumbly took the hat from him, and Chris turned and forced himself to walk in the direction of the Gryffindor table, where people immediately moved as far up the bench as they could so that they would not have to sit near him.

Chris glared into the wooden table, wondering if _he_ had put his influence into the Sorting Hat's decision. It did seem like something he would do. It seemed as though no action had been decided to be taken against his little outburst however, as the feast began. He looked at the food which appeared on the tables, not particularly hungry. He was interested in the enchantment which would have sent the food to the tables and decided he would need to look into it. He spent the whole of the feast glaring at the table, wondering how long he needed to stay here and planning an escape for that very night.

Eventually the students finished eating and the noise level was creeping up once again. It was then that Dumbledore, that was at least one person that Chris knew the name of, got to his feet. Chris was amused by that fact that when their headmaster stood up, all the students stopped talking. "Ass wipers," he muttered, continuing to look only at the table. He tuned out most of Dumbledore's speech, simply because he did not want to hear it. However one thing did draw his attention. A soft noise, no louder than the cough of someone clearing their throat. Chris looked up and frowned at the staff table, at a woman dressed in pink. She had risen from her seat and made her way round to the front of the staff table, clearly wanting to make a speech.

Chris' mind raced. He recognised this woman, though he just couldn't place her. Then it came to him, of course, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the British Minister of Magic. "What the hell is _she_ doing here?" Chris wondered aloud, though his voice was no louder than that of a whisper. He had ran into Umbridge before, though he had been wearing a mask at the time. But that hadn't been their first meeting. It didn't matter what had happened in the previous meetings, right now Chris did not want Umbridge to connect two and two. Obviously she hadn't already, since she had said nothing to him following his rather loud outburst. "Well she does work for the ministry," Chris muttered after considering this little matter for a few moments.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, for those kind words of welcome," she simpered sounding very false. Chris sat up a tiny bit straighter, intent on listening to each word that Miss Umbridge had to say. He wanted to know just why she was at Hogwarts, and wondered if the Ministry knew more than what he had managed to find out.

"Well it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" At that point Umbridge smiled, revealing very pointed teeth and reminding Chris, all too uncomfortably, of the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!" Chris slyly looked over the top of his dark glasses. As far as he could see no one looked happy. In fact, if he had to put a phrase on the expressions of his now fellow students, it was pissed off at being considered five year olds.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Umbridge nodded, her pointed teeth making her seem ever so slightly dangerous. Chris doubted greatly that she wanted to become friends with any student at this school, it was simply another Ministry lie being forced fed to the masses. Chris watched as Professor Umbridge then gave another one of her soft throat clearing coughs, even though Chris would bet that her throat didn't really need clearing, and began to speak again. This time, however, she sounded much more business like than she had done previously. _'So now we find out just why you're here, don't we you old toad,'_ Chris thought venomously.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

There was a brief pause as Umbridge gave a short bow to her fellow staff members. To Chris, the bow screamed sarcasm and he wasn't surprised to see none of the staff bowing in return to Umbridge. He watched as two of the teachers exchanged a very significant glance. Obviously they didn't trust Umbridge either. There was another cough, and then Umbridge continued with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for with progress there will be stagnation and decay. Then again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation … "

The speech continued for a quite a while, Chris' eye's getting narrowed as each word was spoken. There was one thing made absolutely clear in the speech - the Ministry was interfering was Hogwarts. What Chris didn't know was why. He assumed that it had something to do with the lies the paper had been printing all summer long. Slightly bored with the speech, Chris found it difficult to keep his attention on what Umbridge was saying, but he managed it…just.

" … because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Umbridge sat down, Dumbledore was first to clap, with the rest of the staff members following his lead, however hesitantly it was that they clapped. The staff's applause didn't last long. Only a few students clapped, the majority were unaware that the speech had finished. Before a proper applause could break out, Dumbledore had risen to his feet. He turned and bowed to Professor Umbridge. "Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating."

"Damn right it was illuminating, down right phosphorous it was," Chris muttered, beginning to tune out the rest of the speeches. The speech certainly did spread light on a few things. From what he could understand, the Ministry were not happy with Dumbledore, and wanted to stop whatever it was they thought that he was doing. Though Chris himself didn't think that this school was up to anything other than just trying to teach students. Chris frowned, thinking more on the Ministry's appearance at this school. It would certainly interfere with his mission.

Chris looked up as a great clattering and banging began around him. Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, as everyone was standing up and making their way out of the Hall. Chris stood lazily, beginning to follow the others.

"Mr. Ha.." Dumbledore began as Chris passed the staff table.

"What is it Gandalf?" Chris asked, stopping and turning to glare at the old wizard, who merely smiled kindly back. Chris also laughed. This man seemed determined to believe everyone was sweet and good. "Well?" Chris demanded.

"I believe you are in the requirement of a wand," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling slightly. "As such, a good friend has come along to help you in this small matter. If you would care to follow me pleased," Dumbledore stood, and walked into a side room just off the Great Hall. Chris' eyebrow raised slightly, only just visible over his dark glasses. He sighed, glanced around him, and then set off after the headmaster, pushing past the students still trying to make their way to their common rooms and dorms.

 **XXX**

The room which Chris ended up in was quite lightly furnished, consisting of two chairs and a table. Sitting on one of the two chairs was a small old man, looking as ancient as the stone of the school, with wide pale eyes shining like moons. "I have been expecting you, young wizard, or do you prefer the term witch?" The man smiled at Chris. Chris' eyebrow rose once again, curious despite himself. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Mr Ollivander," Mr Ollivander explained, "I am a maker of wands."

"I am Chris, a maker of smart alec remarks and do I really need a wand," he asked Dumbledore, who had been silently listening to Ollivander, showing the wand maker the greatest of respect. "I mean wands went out with Merlin really," Chris shrugged lifting up a box from the table and looking at it with little interest.

"Wands are a necessity here at Hogwarts Chris," Dumbledore answered, making it clear that there was to be no discussion on this topic without changing his tone from its politeness. Chris snorted, dropping the box back on the table. Ollivander smiled again, a smile quite different from the ones that Dumbledore gave out, this one more knowing in a very annoying way. He held out the box which Chris had dropped on the table.

"Which is your wand arm?" Ollivander asked, removing the wand from it's box. Chris frowned, holding up one of his hands. Ollivander nodded once and placed the wand in the hand which Chris had held up. "Right then, Chris is it? Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible." Chris looked at the wand, then turned to stare wordlessly at Ollivander. From behind his glasses, he saw the wand maker give an encouraging smile. "Just take it and give it a wave."

Chris gave a dubious look. He looked once more at the wand, disliking the uncomfortable feel of its unfamiliar presence. To put it simply, it just didn't feel right. He began to wave the wand around a small bit, but Ollivander snatched it right out of his hand almost at once, which in Chris' mind still was too long to be holding it. It was quickly replaced by another wand "No. no, no, maple and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite whippy. Try - "

Chris didn't even have a chance to try that wand even if he wished to. It was once again snatched back by Ollivander. "No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out." Chris complied, realising that there was no point arguing with this man. This fact did not make him happy, in fact it increased his already annoyed mood. The pile of wands which he had 'tried' grew ever greater, Mr Ollivander did not seem to be happy with any wand that he asked Chris to try. Though it did seem that the more wands he got Chris to try, the happier Ollivander became. "Tricky one, eh? No worry, we'll find you the perfect match somewhere here," he smiled at Chris, who had silently decided that the next wand he was handed was going to go straight up Mr Ollivander's …

"I wonder, now - yes why not - unusual combination - holly, eleven inches, nice and supple with some flex." Chris took the wand, feeling a sudden warmth in his hand. He studied the wand slightly, it was supposedly made of holly but it was red in colour, with what seemed like green flecked throughout it. It reminded him of something, but just what it was he couldn't recall. There was a band of silver at the top of the handle of the wand. It was, well, the only word which Chris could think of was…but the word didn't fit it. This wand shouldn't be.

Chris raised the wand slightly, then brought it swishing down through the air, shooting a stream of red and gold sparks from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls of the room. Ollivander clapped, "Oh bravo! Oh very good, yes, indeed. Well, well, well … how curious, how very curious …"

Chris looked up at the old man, his fingers running over the wand lightly, narrowing his eyes through his sunglasses at the man. "What's curious?" He demanded, looking for any excuse to get out of using a wand, no matter how right the wand may have felt to use.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Chris, though I have also remembered every wand I have been commissioned to make. It just so happens that that particular wand is quite newly made, using two magical substances I have never used before, and will never use again." Chris stared back down at his wand, looking closely at the colouring of the wand. The red was very deep, a rich deep red, almost exactly the same shade of red as…

"…blood," Chris muttered. Mr Ollivander peered at him curiously, Chris looked up at the wand maker. "You bathed this wand in blood," he stated. Mr Ollivander nodded.

"The blood of a demon to be precise, with a small drop contained within the core of the wand," Ollivander explained, with the air of one revealing something as simple as the weather. "Along with what I believe is the scrap of a robe belonging to a white lighter," Chris looked down at the wand once more with these words, running his fingers along it once more. "The person who requested the wand be made was quite insistent I use only those components. It seemed as though they knew exactly who this wand was meant for…"

Ollivander's voice faded as the loud thump of his own heart echoed too loudly in his ears. At the base of the wand, just near the very bottom of the handle, was a tiny little craving. Three interlocking arcs, with a perfect circle going through them, joining them forever. Chris stared at the carving, recognising it immediately, and only hearing the blood rushing through his body and towards his ears. "The power of three…" he muttered so very softly.

"Chris?" The voice of Dumbledore broke through Chris' silent staring. He blinked rapidly, changing his face from its momentarily shocked expression back to his usual one of boredom.

"It's nothing Gandalf, just admiring the pretty little carvings. I mean, they are just a fashion accessory right?" He sneered, the sound of his heart beats dying down. He turned to Ollivander. "I'll take this wand Wonka, no way is some power hungry little brat getting it." Chris gave a sniff as if the very idea of someone else taking the wand was preposterous.

Mr Ollivander smiled at Chris. "Wands are indeed curious things," he said softly, "and it is wise to remember that the wand chooses the wizard, Mr Chris." There was a pause as Chris carefully stowed the wand in the inside pocket of his jacket. He walked over to the door of the room, pulling it open and pausing only for a moment as Ollivander spoke to him once more. "I think we can expect great things from you, Chris."

Chris stared at the ground, taking the statement in. He didn't reply. Instead he simply stalked out of the room.

 **XXX**

Halfway towards the Gryffindor common room - which he didn't know the way to but was simply guessing - Chris paused in the deserted corridor. "I know you're there so there's no pointing hiding is there?" He called, managing to sound vaguely amused for once in a long time.

Cole shimmered in front of the young boy, giving him what counted as a warm smile. "Hey kid," he greeted. He looked around the halls of Hogwarts. "Been a while since I've been in Hogwarts," he told Chris, who looked at Cole like he was insane.

"You were a student here?" Chris asked, feeling completely disbelief at Cole's words.

"Not exactly. It was during the last War, a few demons came here to complain that wannabe hero's kept attacking us for no reason," Cole shrugged, looking at Chris' slightly annoyed expression. "Did I say it was an interesting reason that I was here for? No I did not, so stop with the look."

Chris stopped with the 'look' as Cole had labelled it. He frowned, feeling the warmth of his new wand in his pocket. He didn't speak, not used to having to start conversations with Cole.

"So I hear you got sorted into Gryffindor," Cole gave a smile towards the boy who should have been his nephew. There was no audible reaction from Chris, but a large scowl appeared on his face. Cole stifled a laugh, knowing that it would end with pain. "Your mother would be proud," he said softly, watching Chris carefully. He wasn't sure if mentioning her would be the right thing to do, but it was the best thing he could think of saying. There was an odd flicker on Chris' face, but nothing was said.

After a moment or two Chris finally spoke of his own accord. He looked straight up at Cole, a half smile, half smirk on his face. Cole frowned. "Chris?" He asked. Chris reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his new wand. Cole looked down at it, then back up at Chris. Chris had directed his attention towards the red wand, running his fingers over it, his thumb lightly brushing across the triquetra craved into the handle of the wand. He had worked it out. He lifted his head up once more, meeting Cole's eyes.

"Thanks for the wand Cole."


	9. Chapter 9

"Chris," a voice called, breaking into Chris' sleep. "Chris you need to get up or you're going to miss breakfast." Chris groaned. The owner of the voice would just not go away. "Chris come on, I don't want to have McGonagall moaning at us on the first day of lessons, she's bad enough as it is." Chris groaned again, turning over so that he was lying on his back. He blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the light as he woke up. He looked slightly to his right, straight at Craig Lupin, who was still wearing that kind smile he had worn the last time Chris had spoken to him. "Come on mate, get dressed and I'll show you the way to the Great Hall."

"In case it's slipped your notice, Wereboy, I did make my way here last night on my own from the Great Hall," Chris remarked, rolling out of the admittedly very comfortable bed. His eyes now more awake, he looked back up at Craig and burst into laughter. "What the hell are you wearing?" He asked through his laughter.

Craig looked down and then back up. "The school uniform," he answered, not sure why Chris would burst out laughing at the site of the robes which every student in the school had to wear. "Chris, you have to wear it too," he pointed out. Chris stopped laughing and looked back up, his laughter dying down.

"I'll take no for 500 Alex," he said pointedly, all of the laughter gone. Craig blinked, not understanding what Chris had said. "Means no, Wereboy," Chris sighed. He hated having to explain his remarks. "In other words, there's no way anyone is getting me into those robes," he explained, pointing at the aforementioned garment.

Craig frowned, looking down at his own robes and then back up at Chris. "But you have to wear them," he told Chris who just shook his head in response, before grabbing articles of clothing out of his trunk and wandering away to get changed. Which left Craig stood in the centre of the dorm room, slightly confused at what to do. The sound of a dull thud caught his attention, and he turned to see what it was. A flash of red caught his eye and he bent down, and picked up Chris' wand. Which he then dropped immediately on to the bed, his hand hurting with the ache being burned, and a feeling as though he had touched…Craig didn't know how to describe it. But, to put it simply, to Craig, Chris' wand felt _evil_.

Craig stepped backwards from the bed, knowing without knowing how that he mustn't touch that wand, or even go near it. He knew, of course he knew, that without someone actually using it the wand couldn't hurt him, but it still didn't stop this, this fear that made him step back. He stared at the wand, seemingly waiting for it to prove it's true self by doing something evil. But the wand just lay there on the bed, the odd carving on the handle facing the ceiling.

"Okay Wereboy, let's rock and roll," Chris called, sauntering back into the room, dressed in muggle style clothing instead of the uniform - he had been completely serious when he had said he wasn't going to wear the standard robes. He paused and stared at Craig, who was looking pale and shaky. "Yo, Wereboy? You with me?" Chris asked, mentally noting that he was actually being quite pleasant for once. _'I really gotta do something about that, can't have people thinking I'm nice.'_ He looked at Craig again. "Okay getting boring now," he remarked before turning to leave. What bother was it to him if something was wrong with the Wereboy?

"Why does your wand reek of blood?" Craig's voice came out, an almost whisper. Chris smirked, though not completely unkindly. He had expected that to happen, it always did. He paused halfway towards the door, and turned back to Craig, a look of fake interest on his face, and his pose regaining its familiar arrogance. Any 'niceness' had left him.

"Reek of blood? Why however would that happen? Maybe because it was bathed in it," Chris shrugged, his tone full of its usual, comfortable sarcasm. Craig paled, managing to look completely white in colour and green at the exact same time. It was quite a unique look.

"Is that why it feels so…so evil?" Craig managed to say, still looking as though he was ready to throw up. Chris paused, not knowing how to answer that question. He turned to look at his wand, which looked perfectly innocent laying on the bed, the triquetra carving facing the roof of four-poster. It didn't look evil, though Chris knew from experience that you couldn't base morality on looks alone. But…at the same time, the wand didn't feel evil to him. If anything it felt too good. He picked the wand off the bed, twirling it in his hands a few times before looking up at Craig again, who was staring, still waiting for an answer. Chris stared at him for a few minutes before turning and leaving silently, after grabbing his shades from their table and putting them on.

Hey, he may not like this place, but he wasn't going to let down his quickly gained reputation by being without them.

 **XXX**

Upon entering the Great Hall, Chris found himself to the receiver of numerous stares and mutterings. Obviously he had made a bigger impression than he had thought that last. He looked over to the Gryffindor Table, and saw the Golden Trio of the school stare and him once then put their heads together. It seemed to be story telling time, and he was the hero - or villain - of all these stories. His eyes rolled almost automatically, feeling bored with the scene in front of him already. He looked around the Great Hall, not wanting to sit with the rest of his House and wondering if there was a way he could escape with food, when he caught sight of a hand waving at him from the corner of his eye. He looked over, and a smirk appeared.

Over at the Ravenclaw table, sitting quite isolated from the rest of her house, was Luna. She was waving in a friendly manner to Chris, a pleasant smile within her dreamy expression. Chris' smirk increased slightly, as he stalked over towards the Ravenclaw table, sitting himself down in the space beside Luna. "Morning Lunar," he said, reaching over for some toast.

"Good morning Chris," Luna replied happily, smiling kindly at him. "I don't suppose you know this but we're meant to sit with our Houses," she informed him, her tone so light that if it wasn't completely impossible, Chris would have sworn she was floating away with them.

"Yeah well, you seen the people at my table Lunar? They're a bunch of stone throwing idiots," Chris said, ripping off a piece of his now buttered toast and popping it into his mouth. He swallowed and continued. "I don't think that I'd get along with the do-gooders anyway, if their reactions to my little outburst was anything to go by."

Luna gave out a soft laugh, "Yes I remember, I do think that a Nargle must have gotten to you Chris, they're known for causing loud outbursts like that," she explained matter-of-factly. Or as matter-of-factly as you could get with her. Chris looked at her, taking a gulp of orange juice and his nose wrinkling with distaste.

"That's awful, and what are Nargles?" He asked, wondering for the second time why it was no one else found this girl to be at least interesting.

"They normally infest mistletoe, but they've been known to infect people, causing rude outbursts, they're tricksters you see," Luna explained to Chris, who was actually listening to her, instead of tuning her out like he did to everyone else. "It's rather hard to see them, so people think they don't exist, but that's part of their magic," Luna continued, stabbing at her breakfast with her fork. "It makes people think I'm mad but I'm quite sane." She paused here, turning to look at Chris. "Do you believe me?" she inquired, blinking owlishly at Chris.

Chris looked at Luna, who seemed so childlike with her question. She believed utterly in all the things that she was saying and, from the looks of things, it was her ability to believe that had made her an outcast in this school. Chris found that to be completely hypocritical from people who called themselves witches and wizards. After all, to the majority of the world, they didn't exist either. So what gave them the right to condemn someone's beliefs? "You know what Lunar, I think I just might," he answered, his smirk turning into a half smile.

Luna beamed. "I knew you would, my angel told me you would," she told Chris, returning to her own breakfast with a new enthusiasm. "I told her all about you, you know, and about your little introduction last night. She didn't find it all that funny, but she agreed it had to be a Nargle. After all, it did follow you on to the train." Luna rambled, making her way through her breakfast as she spoke. Chris frowned.

"Lunar," he said, with no effect on Luna. "Lunar, Lunar!" He tried again, this time his voice a little louder. Luna turned to Chris and smiled once more - she never really seemed to stop smiling. "Did you say, your…angel?" Chris questioned, curiosity creeping into his voice. He made no effort to hide it, he didn't feel as though Luna would question it, and he really did want to know.

Luna nodded happily. "Yes I did. She doesn't have wings though, so it may not seem like she's a proper angel but she is," she said. "She comes to me using these bright blue and white lights…" Luna's explanation continued but Chris had heard all he needed to hear. Luna had a whitelighter. A small pang of sadness struck Chris, which shocked him slightly. He knew he could still feel pity, he didn't know he could still feel slightly sad. He knew why the feeling was there, only wiccan witches qualified for a whitelighter, witches and wizards from the wizarding world didn't need them as they could use their magic anytime they wanted. No, the only way a wizarding world witch could get a whitelighter is if they were destined to be one themselves. Luna was destined to die. He looked over at the girl, who was still happily rambling on about her 'pretty angel' who looked after her.

"She sounds great," Chris said, cutting into Luna's ramblings. Luna blinked and looked over at Chris once more.

"She said you would believe she existed," Luna remarked. "She also said to tell you that she sends you her love," she told Chris, who found himself frowning once more.

"Lunar, believe me when I say I've done nothing to warrant angel love," he drawled, finishing off his toast. "Why would your angel send me love anyway?" He wondered out loud.

"Oh because she says she knows you, quite well in fact," Luna explained to Chris. There was a moments pause in their conversation as Chris chewed on his last piece of toast, and Luna drank some of her morning tea (with a spot of milk and five sugars).

"Okay I'll bite, who the hell is your whit…your angel?" Chris asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Luna put her cup down almost daintily, and turned in her seat so that she was fully facing Chris now. She paused for a moment in thought, apparently recalling the name of her angel.

"Oh, I believe she said her name was Piper. Piper Halliwell."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? I only own the laptop on which this was written and some of what is written below. Seriously, if you recognise it, it probably isn't mine. Just letting you all know. Oh yeah, big love to all my brilliant reviews. You guys really know how to cheer a kid up out of the studying funk. Exams in a few weeks you know. So any and all reviews gratefully recieved. And on with the show!

_"Oh, I believe she said her name was Piper. Piper Halliwell."_

It was funny how two words could have such an effect on him. Nearly an hour later the words slightly floated around his mind, confusing him as much as they did when they were first spoken. Chris sat on a windowsill in a deserted corridor of the school, staring out of the window, trying to regain some sense. He had skipped out of his first lesson, History of Magic according to his newly acquired timetable, to come and allow himself some time to think rationally. Or at least, that had been the original plan, unfortunately his mind continued to focus on what Luna had told him.

If there was one person in the world he felt would never have become a whitelighter, his mother was it. She hated whitelighters and the Elders, a feeling which he wholeheartedly shared, and would have never joined them. Not unless they had offered her something important to her. Chris wondered if the Elders had double-cross her, telling her that if she became a whitelighter she would be allowed to see her children, while at the same time making sure that he would never get to see her until he died. Chris often wondered why it was that the greatest force of good could sometimes be downright evil. They really had made sure he would never see her, he remembered looking down at his fist and a scar running across it. It was thinner than some of the scars that he had, but this one was the mark of a deal which he had been forced to make. He fingered the scar lightly, lost in his memories for a moment. If he cared to remember correctly, it was that scar that had set him on the path that he was on. But of course, he didn't care to remember correctly.

Except that he couldn't help but remember that meeting, and the anger that he had felt. When he was a child he had thought the Elders to be great forces of good, if perhaps with the tendency to do the most annoying things at times. But things had started to go wrong round about the time that Mel had died. _'Memento mori Melinda,'_ Chris thought, a small smile appearing on his face. _'I made it sis, got into the House you loved as well, just a pity it wasn't you.'_ Melinda Halliwell, his baby sister, forever his baby sister. It was round about the time she died that things had started to go wrong with the Elders. His mother was furious and heartbroken, her youngest child, her only girl, killed. Not even by a demon, but by a stupid drunk teenager who had just gotten his driving licence. She was only 7, she had been the centre of his and his family's world. Their little Princess. When he thought on it, Chris could see a lot of Melinda in Luna. They both believed utterly and completely in things that most people dismissed as fairy tales. Chris knew that Melinda wouldn't have become a whitelighter, she was too young when she had passed for the Elders to have let her. He never knew if his mother was pleased or saddened by that information.

But still…for his mother to become a whitelighter. He let out a humourless chuckle. "Great to see you sticking to your convictions mom," he muttered softly, still staring out of the window. "I know you're probably listening to me right now, and you're not happy at me from what Lunar said, but…" Chris paused, licking his dry lips. "But…" another humourless chuckle escaped him. "God, I can't even say it. How pathetic am I? I just…I miss you mom," he finished, leaning his forehead against the glass window. "And I'm trying, really I am, but this…my mission, it's hard." Whether or not Piper knew what he was on about, and Chris suspected that Cole might have been speaking to her so she might know, was not important. He didn't even know what was important. Funny how two words could have such an effect on him.

Chris looked up from the window when a bell sounded throughout the school. He frowned, and checked his watch. Apparently it was time for the next lesson. Chris dug in his pocket, pulling out the parchment which contained his timetable. "Okay so Monday, second…Double Potions," he muttered, a small smirk appearing. He liked Potions, he was good at Potions. "I think…that just maybe, it's time that I grace the boring masses with my presence," he grinned, turning in the direction of the Potions class.

 **XXX**

"And what time would you call this?" Snape questioned Chris when he stepped into the classroom (dungeon room surely?). Chris looked around, apparently he was late for class. He checked his watch again, according to it class had started ten minutes ago. "Well?" Snape asked again, obviously showing him what counted as politeness since he was a new student. Or because technically Chris was his boss in the other side.

"Well I know you can't really tell down here, 'cause it's all dark and dingy, but this is what people like to call morning," Chris smirked, suddenly loving the position he was in. "Now this is Potions right? Or have I accidentally wandered into the land of the S&M lovin'?" He asked, a look of innocent on his face, though his eye held a wicked look. A chuckle went the room, and Chris could have sworn he had heard a snort of laughter. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, and take your seat or it shall be 100," Snape threatened Chris, who shrugged lightly. He didn't want to be in school so why should he care if his House lost points. He stalked towards the back of the classroom, taking the empty seat opposite Hermione Granger. Chris smirked slightly, and leaned towards her.

"Hey Beautiful, how about after this me and you run away, just the two of us, and elope?" Chris grinned at her, causing her to blush furiously and stare at the table. He looked again at her, then looked up at her tablemates. "Second thoughts Beautiful, we'd better not. Weasel and Wonder Boy wouldn't be happy." Chris made a move of mock heartbreak. "I guess…it just wasn't meant to be."

"Will you just shut up!" Ron hissed at him, his face flushed angrily. Chris smirked, miming zipping his lips shut. He turned slightly in his seat, to listen to Snape having managed to annoy at least one person in under a minute, and embarrass another. All in all, a pretty good minute's work for him.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation," Snape was saying. Chris' smirk grew with confidence. He had made this potion too many times before, and could make it without looking at any instructions or directions. "Be warned," Snape continued, "if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." Chris didn't need to look at Hermione to know that she had sat up straighter, paying extremely close attention. "The ingredients and method are on the blackboard, you will find everything you need in the store cupboard." Snape flicked his wand as he spoke, setting things up for the class. "You have an hour and a half…start."

"An hour and a half? For a simple Draught of Peace?" Chris shook his head as he muttered, not understand the way this school worked. He had been made to make this potion in a lesson back at Magic School once before, in Advanced Potions, and that class had given them only forty-five minutes. Chris quickly picked up the first lot of ingredients and started to his, his movements quick and expert. Potion making, he mused, was a lot like cooking at times. The more you did, the better your technique got, and - hopefully - the more skilled you became. He paused momentarily, stirring the potion, and looked up. From what he could tell, he was the only one getting through the potion with ease.

And it was true, he was the only one easily brewing this potion. To the rest of the class, who had not had Chris' experience in having to make potions under unusual circumstances, the Draught of Peace was a difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. Which is what Chris was doing, with a sense of self satisfaction that always came to him when he knew he had finished a potion correctly. A light silver vapour began to rise from his potion.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," Snape called five minutes later, with only ten minutes left of their designated time limit. Chris looked up, lazily making sure his flames were at a consistent temperature. Harry's cauldron was issuing dark grey steam, Ron's was spitting green sparks. Hermione's however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, much like his own. As Snape by he looked down at both potions over his hooked nose with a single comment, obviously finding nothing to criticise. He stopped at Harry's potion with a smirk of his own on his face. "Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

Harry looked up, obviously keeping in anger. "The Draught of Peace," he answered tensely. Chris looked over at the potion. From what he could guess, it seemed as though Harry had missed an ingredient, Chris guessed syrup hellebore, which had resulted in the dark grey steam. Of course, that mistake could be fixed by adding four drops of hellebore and a sprig of mint to eliminate any after effects. Whether or not Harry would be told this was a matter of debate, as Chris wasn't going to tell him, and he doubted Hermione if knew. He knew that Snape wouldn't tell even if it meant a large cash bonus.

"Tell me Potter, can you read?" Snape asked Harry softly, Chris watched with little interest, wondering how they would get to his assumed outcome - Harry's potion going bye bye in Chris' own words. Harry's fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Yes I can," he answered Snape, somehow keeping a reign on his temper.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore," Harry read, frowning more as he went on. His gaze dropped to his cauldron, realising his mistake.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?" Snape questioned, knowing fine well the mistake which Harry had made. Harry's answer was soft, almost reluctant to be heard.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry spoke louder this time, "I forgot the hellebore." Chris looked over at the boy, wondering if just maybe it was worth telling him the way to fix his mistake. He watched carefully, deciding quickly that although telling him would help him in the future, it would give out the impression that he actually cared what happened to these people and to be completely truthful, he didn't.

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco._ " The contents of Harry's cauldron vanished, leaving him standing beside an empty cauldron, looking like a fool. Chris was quite impressed by the spell, which he took to be some sort of a vanishing charm. He still considered his own orbing to be slightly more effective, as he had managed to get to the level where he didn't need to speak to orb an object - though he did speak when he wanted to seem more impressive - but the spell was interesting. ' _And vanished objects go into non-being ,'_ Chris remembered vaguely from an old Magic School lesson, ' _which is, really, everything.'_

"Those of you who _have_ managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday," Snape ordered the class who began to fill their flagons. Chris watched as Harry cleared away his things in anger, noting that the Wonder Boy's potion had been no worse than the Weasel's which smelt of bad eggs. He watched as everyone filed out of the classroom, taking his time in cleaning out his cauldron and packing away his things. He felt Snape's gaze on him as he cleaned. He sighed, having finished cleaning out the cauldron, and spoke without turning round.

"My, my, Severus, to think that a great member of our society like you is left to teach obnoxious brats like Wonder Boy. My the mighty do fall don't they," Chris turned to look at Snape, an eyebrow raised. Snape looked down at his desk.

"Forgive me for asking, my Lord, but why was I not informed of your coming to the school?" He asked, avoiding Chris' eyes. The perfect servant bowing to his master. Chris smirked.

"Oh come on Sev, I don't need to tell you a damn thing," Chris answered, sitting himself on one of the benches. He looked around the classroom. "Nice little set up you got here, bit dank but it'll do I suppose," he continued. Snape looked confused.

"'Do', my Lord?" Snape questioned, looking up at the teenager to whom he had to answer to. Chris looked over at him, that smirk still on his face.

"Now that's my little secret Sev, and enough with the 'my Lord', I'm not Tommy," he added, feeling quite put out at being referred to by a title which he hated. He looked around the classroom again. "Why didn't you tell Wonder Boy how to fix his mistake? I mean, I don't like the brat but it's gotta be easier than having him repeat the class right?"

"It is not my place to coddle the students," Snape answered. "Potter is already Dumbledore's favourite and it has given him a sense of invulnerability in this school. He has to be shown that he cannot expect the same treatment with all the teachers." Snape spoke with a hint of a sneer in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris drawled. "Face it Sev, you just don't like Wonder Boy," Chris paused in thought. "Can't really say I blame you, the kid is too damn…good," he added, scowling briefly. "It's nauseating."

"My Lord… Chris," Snape added hastily, remembering what he was told. "I beg pardon for asking this, but just what do you hope to achieve here?" Snape spoke as evenly as he could, but there was a hint of curiosity that did not fit the servant-master speech he had been affecting. Chris watched the hooked nose man for a moment, wondering if what he believed about him was true. He slid off the desk and walked towards the door. Snape stopped him. "I think I have a right to know what has been planned," he insisted. Chris looked at him.

"No, you really don't," he informed Snape, walking out of the dungeon classroom.

 **XXX**

Chris found his path to the Great Hall unexpectedly blocked by some invisible force field, causing him to frown in concentration. Who would try to stop him from having his lunch? It wasn't as if he was particularly hungry, but it was the principle of the thing. He shrugged, deciding that he would just eat more at dinner that night. Not that he thought much of the food here anyway. He turned away from the Great Hall, and made his way towards the North Tower, where his next class, Divination, was meant to be taking place. He wasn't in a hurry to get to class, but he had to admit a slight interesting in the subject. He supposed it was due to his Aunt's power of premonition. He doubted the teacher here would have the same power, but it was worth a look to see.

He came up into the corridor below the North Tower, and found the Wonder Boy himself sitting alone underneath the trap door with lead to the class. "Well, if it isn't the king of the Gryffindorks himself. what's up Wonder Boy, your sidekicks too busy screwing to talk to you?" He called over, smirking slightly. Harry didn't respond. "Oh an icy demeanour. That'll really shut me up," Chris laughed. "Nah, I could talk for America if I wanted to," he continued, walking over and sitting down beside Harry. "Now, come on you can tell me, is it that your jealous of Hermione 'cause you wanted Ron for yourself?"

"Will you just shut the hell up Chris?" Harry snapped. Chris turned and looked, somewhat surprised.

"Was that a tone I heard from you Wonder Boy, oh dear, what will people think of you now?" Chris smirked, feeling amused at the situation. Harry glared.

"They'll thank me for telling you to shut up," he snapped once more at Chris, whose smirk grew. "And wipe that bloody smirk of your face, is that all you know? Cutting remarks and stupid smirks?" Harry scowled. Chris shrugged.

"Well I do have a good scowl, and I'm often quite witty," he spoke, as if he had taken serious consideration with Harry's remark. "Chill Wonder Boy, stress any more and it'll be The Boy Who Lived To Die Of A Premature Heart Attack, and then were would your poor little wizarding world be?" Harry opened his mouth to answer Chris when the bell rang loudly. He snapped his mouth shut and climbed up the silver ladder that lead to the Divination classroom, Chris following behind him.

After taking the seat closest to the ladder, Chris took the time to look around the overheated classroom, and to study the Divination teacher herself. Sybil Trelawney, the great-great-granddaughter of the famous wizarding world Seer Cassandra Trelawney, reminded Chris of some sort of insect. She was a thin woman, draped in shawls and glittered with strings of beads, her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She wandered around the room, placing battered leather-bound books on each of the tables. Chris had heard something of Cassandra Trelawney, and if the teacher here had a fraction of her talent, then he assumed it would be an interesting lesson. However, he doubted that she would know how to truly control her gift - hadn't Cassandra herself turned mad with the power? The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes, taking their seats.

"Good day, and welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely - as of course I knew you would," Trelawney spoke in a misty, dreamy tone. Chris snorted. This woman was playing at being a Seer, whether she had the power of premonition or not. She coughed lightly, an airy cough though necessary, Chris thought, even if just to rid her throat of the noxious fumes in the room. Scented candles to set the mood never set the mood, they just made people cough.

"You will find on the tables before you…" Trelawney continued, Chris tuning out each word she spoke as she spoke it. He looked over the book idly, wondering what his Aunt Phoebe would have made of this class. He doubted she would have liked it, and would have probably started an argument with Trelawney on the 'true' way to see things. And he would have placed all the money he had on his Aunt winning, she was downright vicious when she had wanted to be. Chris turned another page in the book, his eyes growing heavy. The heat of the room mixed with the overpowering scent was uncomfortable, and made him feel tired. His lids dropped and his head sank nearer the table, resting in the crook of propped up arm. His lids dropped once…twice…

"You there! Boy!" A loud voice caused Chris' head to shoot straight up. He blinked at the onset of sudden light and noticed that the class was staring at him. He must have fallen asleep. He looked around. "What were you doing sleeping?" Trelawney demanded of him. Chris paused for a moment, he could either answer her question sarcastically, a method he favoured, or he could screw with their minds. He smirked.

Chris gasped loudly, mimicking the facial expression his Aunt always had when she had a premonition. Trelawney eyes widened. "What is it? What do you see?" She asked, leaning nearer Chris, who leant back slightly. He opened his eyes, faking a look of confusion.

"I…I saw people. Lots of people, all in black robes, walking around...and there was this strange ringing noise…almost like a bell," as Chris spoke the bell rang loudly, signalling the end of the lesson. He fixed on a look of shock. "Just like that one in fact," he informed Trelawney, before moving to climb down the ladder quickly. That was incredibly lucky, the bell going right after he had mentioned one. Of course, he had been asleep for the whole lesson so it was due to go anyway. He paused in the middle of the corridor, wondering if his quick thinking and then the bell ringing had just been a little too lucky. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, his problem was he was too suspicious at times. He walked towards his last class, Defence Against the Dark Arts, the one class on his timetable he had decided that he would attend every single lesson of. He had a slight score to settle with the toad after all.

He took a seat at the very back of the classroom, which meant he was sitting behind Craig and Luperca, both of whom were talking quietly, with Craig looking angry for the first time in Chris' short time of knowing him. "Hey, what's the deal Wereboy?" Chris asked, frowning slightly. Craig turned in his seat. "Well?" Chris asked again.

"Umbridge is a known and public hater of all 'half-breeds', and top of her list are werewolves," Craig answered, looking angry and doing his best to keep his voice level. Chris looked up at the toad, who was sitting smiling in a sickly manner.

"So basically, Craig has no chance because the cow won't let stereotypes be," Luperca added in a hiss, turning round in her chair to face Chris as well. She paused momentarily, staring at him. Chris' eyebrow rose, silently asking her what she was looking at. She shook her head, clearing whatever thought it was she had, before turning back around to face the front. Chris and Craig both stared at her, confused. Craig shrugged at Chris, not understanding his friend's actions either. Chris watched as Craig turned back to face the front of the class, and then looked back up at the front himself.

"Well good afternoon!" Umbridge said, only getting a few mumbled 'good afternoons' in reply. "Tut, tut. _That_ won't do, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!" The class chanted their good afternoons at her, Chris remaining determinedly silent, watching at the class was told to put their wands away and bring their quills out. Umbridge then pulled out her own unusually short wand, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it, words appearing instantly

 _Defence Against the Dark Arts  
A Return to Basic Principles._

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? " Umbridge stated to the class, turning to face them. She continued on in her steam, mentioning that the previous teachers of this class never taught them what the Ministry approved of them learning. She rapped the blackboard again, the first message disappearing and being replaced with the 'Course Aims'

 _the principles underlying defensive magic_

 _to recognise situations in which defensive magic can be legally used_

 _the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

For the next few minutes, the room was filled with the sound of scratching quills on parchment. Chris looked at the board, reading through each aim carefully and thoroughly. There was no mention of actually getting to use any of the defensive spells they were to be learning about. It didn't really bother him, but he couldn't help but wonder if the Ministry really was that paranoid that they would limit the teaching of students just to protect themselves. Thankfully he didn't seem to be the only one in the class to notice the lack of practical lessons in the course aims. Despite having been told to sit and read quietly, Hermione Granger was sitting actually complaining to Umbridge.

"There's nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells," she stated bluntly, which lead to a short silence in which many class members turned their heads to frown at the course aims, which were still being displayed on the board. Of course, Hermione's very blunt statement lead the class to an uproar - apparently they didn't like not being able to actually practice the spells. Umbridge didn't seem to liked being questioned about her course aims, either, turning away from the person she was speaking to all the time

Finally, in a horribly honeyed voice, she asked the question that Chris had been waiting for, "Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Harry glared up at her, anger flashing dangerously in his eyes.

"Hmm, let's think…" he said in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe … _Lord Voldemort_?" There were numerous reactions to this. Weasley gasped, one of the Gryffindor girls uttered a little scream, and Longbottom slipped off his stool. For her credit, however, Umbridge didn't even flinch. She stared at Harry.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter," she said calmly. By now the whole class were staring at the two, deadly silent. "Now let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead - "

Here Harry cut in loudly. "He wasn't dead, but yeah, he's returned!" He commented angrily, still glaring over at Umbridge. Chris watched carefully, waiting, wondering exactly how deep in denial the Ministry were. It wasn't as if Tommy hadn't been all that careful the past few months or so. Well, okay so he hadn't, but that was only after the Source had threatened him a few times. Which Chris had found immensely fun to watch.

"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Umbridge breathed without looking at Harry. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. _This is a lie_." Chris bristled. If Voldemort returning was simply a lie, then that lie could be really sadistic.

"It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him!" Harry insisted, yelling at Umbridge. Chris smirked, remembering the fun he had annoying Tommy with the knowledge that a child had fought him and got away…again. And he was meant to be the fully trained Dark wizard.

"Detention, Mr Potter! Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office," Umbridge snapped at Harry triumphantly. "I repeat, _this is a lie_. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard." Again Chris smirked. He was a danger and look, he was sitting right under the Ministry's nose. Blind bats. "If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend," Chris immediately decided that if she was meant to be his friend, he was better off not having any at all. "And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'." Just like a teacher, to get back to their lesson plan at all costs.

As Umbridge sat down, Harry stood up, drawing everyone's attention. Chris closed his mouth, deciding that he could wait to say what he wanted to say. This was getting interesting. "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking with restrain and righteous anger. God, Chris hated do-gooders.

Umbridge looked up at Harry, staring at him with not even a fake smile. "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she told Harry coldly. Harry glared back.

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him and you know it," he said, shaking with anger. Chris found himself mentally applauding him, for at least having the guts to stand up and yell the truth…seems like something he would do himself. Umbridge continued to stare at Harry.

"Come here, Mr Potter dear," she called in her most girlish voice, something that made Chris feel sick in his stomach on hearing. He watched as Harry stomped up to the desk, and as Umbridge scribbled a note out on the most disgusting shade of pink parchment that he had ever seen. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," she said, handing the rolled up parchment over to Harry, who then turned on his heel and left the room.

"Oh fantastic!" Chris yelled, clapping his hands in a slow, sarcastic manner. "Just fantastic, the Ministry once again fuck things up, well done to you," he called out, lazing back in his chair. Umbridge turned to face the back of the classroom, surprised by the remark.

"What was that, Mr…?" she asked, leaving a pause for Chris to fill in his name.

"Chris," he called back. "And I said that the Ministry fucked things up again, though I suppose you already know that and just get paid to hide any mistakes," he said casually. Umbridge's eyes narrowed.

"Chris what?" She asked, tactfully ignoring his comments. Name first, punishment second. That was her own method when it came to dealing with badly behaved students. There was a long pause as Chris just stared at her, saying nothing. "I shall not ask again, what is your surname?" Another pause. Chris titled his head to the side, an amused look in his eyes.

"Halliwell. Chris Halliwell," he finally answered. A gasp went around the class, accompanied by the mutters of the students brought up in wizarding families. A Halliwell, at Hogwarts. Even Umbridge seemed momentarily shocked.

"Hal…" Umbridge coughed. "Halliwell you say? Be that as it may that type of language is not necessary…"

"Oh I say it is," Chris interrupted. Umbridge blinked, shocked at being interrupted and not entirely knowing what to say. "Let's take a minute here to look at the facts shall we Toady? Now, Wonder Boy, Harry is his name, Wonder Boy tells you the truth and you give him detention. Then, on behalf of the Ministry, you lie about Tommy being back. To me, that's pretty fucked up."

"Mr Halliwell ten points from Gryffindor!" Umbridge called, seemingly have got back to her 'in charge' thinking. Chris shrugged.

"Ooh, scary, taking points off the House I don't even wanna be in. Yeah that's gonna stop me," Chris drawled, rolling his eyes. "Seriously Delores, you really paint the wizarding world in a negative light you know that?" He called over.

"Detention!" Umbridge snapped. Chris gave a dry chuckle.

"Oh joy, I get to spend time with the human toad!" He smirked. "Give me all the damn detentions you wanna, I ain't gonna show up at any of them, it just isn't my style," he informed Umbridge, looking up at the ceiling of the classroom. Umbridge bristled with fury. Never before had a child been so openly rude to her.

"Come here, Mr Halliwell," she commanded, watching as Chris sighed and slowly made his way to the front of the classroom, a knowing smirk on his face. He leant forward on to her desk. She wrote out a similar parchment to Harry's. "Take this to…"

"Professor McGonagall, yeah, heard it, memorised it, bored with it," Chris called over his shoulder, after plucking the parchment out of her hand. He turned and walked out of the classroom, pausing only to give a grand bow to his class mates when he reached the door. The door slammed shut behind him. Chris sighed. "Fina-fucking-ly. How long does it take to be kicked out of a class in this school," he mused out loud, before orbing away.

 **XXX**

Harry was walking out of the office by the time Chris showed up (Chris having decided to first randomly orb around the school, instead of directly to McGonagall's office). Of course, Chris wasn't actually going to go in and speak to his Head of House, so instead he fell into step beside Harry. "Gotta tell ya Wonder Boy, you lack any sort of tact," he said conversationally.

"Leave it Chris, I'm really not in the mood to hear any of this," Harry said, glaring at the ground. Chris shrugged.

"Really don't care if you want to hear it or not, I'm gonna say it," Chris told him, looking around at the many portraits adoring the walls of Hogwarts. "But seriously, lack of tact," he looked Harry up and down, "lack of style. It's like you're the Boy Who Lived To Have No Sort Of Life Whatsoever," Chris finished. Harry gave an annoyed grunt, clearly still angry from his confrontation with Umbridge. "Or maybe, just maybe, it should be the Boy Who Won't Fucking Kick the Bucket," he mused, watching Harry's knuckles turn slightly white with anger. "I mean, all the death attempts. Anyone would think that you like the attention. Either that or you really are mental."

A fist was swung at Chris, colliding with his mouth. He swore loudly, and lashed out with his own fist, with Harry managing to dodge., leading Chris to aim with his other fist, this time making contact with Harry's cheek, knocking off his glasses. The fight between the two was evenly matched, neither having had great experience at fighting. Well Chris had, but that was more fighting for his life, than a simple school fight. The fists flew, the legs kicked, and Chris was thankful he had chosen not to wear the school robes as his jeans had much more movement in them. He kicked out, getting Harry on the knee which Harry returned by punching him in the stomach. So involved were both in the fight that neither noticed the angry looking flames appear beside them.

"Enough," a male voice said, causing Harry to look up. The man - Harry didn't know who he was, but noted that he was wearing a muggle style, yet expensive looking, suit so he may not have been a wizard - grabbed Chris' arm, pulling him up and out of the fight. "Chris stop it," the man commanded, holding back a Chris who was trying to get back into the fight. "You are insufferable," he said, before the flames covered both of them, and then they were gone.

Harry blinked.

 **XXX**

Cole threw Chris into the nearest seat when they entered the Gryffindor common room. Thankfully no one was there, the entire House was down at dinner. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" Cole snapped at Chris, glaring angrily at the boy, who glared back.

"Well I did think I was fighting but who knows? It could have been some complicated demonic mating ritual for all I know," Chris snapped back. He raised his hand to touch his lip, which had been split open in the fight and was now tender and stained with blood. "Why the hell did you stop me, I was winning."

"I was watching, no one was winning," Cole informed Chris who frowned at him. "All either of you were doing was acting like complete idiots," he continued, looking down at Chris with disappointment etched on his face. "I really expected better of you Chris."

"Cole, you may be forced to watch over me, but in no way does that give you permission to act like a father to me," Chris shot at the demon darkly. "I already have one," he reminded Cole, hatred crossing over his features with the thought of his father. Cole stopped, blinking slightly.

"Chris, I…" he started, but trailed off. He had been acting like a father, even if he hadn't really noticed at the time. It came slightly easily, which did seem to be odd as Cole had never been a father, and had never thought of Chris as anything more than an annoyance who he had promised to look after… at least he thought that most of the time. There was the odd occasion where he quite liked the annoying teenager. "I didn't mean to," he finished his sentence rather lamely. Chris turned away from him, standing up and moving over to the staircase leading up to the dorms.

"Get out of my sight Cole, I really don't want to see you right now," Chris said, walking up the stairs. Cole waited, sighing slightly, before turning and disappearing in the flames, annoyed at the set back when he was finally getting Chris to trust him, even if it was just the smallest bit.

 **XXX**

At least an hour later Chris lay on his stomach on his bed, staring at the letter in his hand, checking it over for spelling mistakes and seeing if there was anything else he needed to add. The letter read:

' _Hey Wy,_

 _So, like I said in the last letter I sent you, I'm being forced back into school. It's called Hogwarts and it's meant to be the foremost school for magical education in Europe. Personally I think it's sorta shitty but hey what do I know? After all, I'm a deeply troubled youth….yeah I couldn't keep a straight face while writing that. But yeah, I got sorted in the goody goody House. See me jump in unrestrained joy. I wanted to be in Slytherin, but the mouldy old hat they used for sorting refused to listen to me. Damn thing. So I got stuck in Gryffindor. Ah well, they're so good in here, I'm gonna have fun annoying them_

 _Oh yeah - you asked me to check on major threats in the school. Seriously Wy, I'm the biggest threat here. Yeah, Gandalf (Albus Dumbledore , Headmaster, crazy old bat if ever I saw one) reeks of unused power but the man is too busy believing the best in people . Obvious proof of that is his willingness to let me in. I think that it could be his downfall, though I bet he's the sort whose planned out his death, he seems it. The students could be powerful, if they were smart enough to set aside their petty differences and work together but believe me when I say that it'll never happen. So, in my humble opinion as the biggest threat this school has to offer, I say leave it. It's not worth the energy to attack it.'_

It was here that Chris paused. Did he mention what he knew about their mother? His pen hovered over the letter, unsure of what to do. He sighed slightly, deciding against mentioning their mother. He could keep it a secret for now, after all he had managed to keep his demonic protector a secret for the past year. He put his pen down on the letter again

' _All in all I'm bored out of my mind. Please send some entertainment. Even though Sev is here - yeah did you know he was a teacher? I didn't, why does no one tell me these things? A guy could get a complex here - he's too much of a stick in the mud to have any fun. And he can't exactly start bowing down to me in the middle of the Great Hall…though I could probably jinx him to. Nah, wouldn't be worth the time and/or effort. I might even break a sweat, which is not a great desire of mine._

 _Sorta miss you bro', we need to meet up soon. Though preferably not in the middle of some great fight again. As fun as it was we couldn't really catch up could we?_

 _Oh yeah - Ministry Toad is teaching here. You know? The one who almost killed me? I'm planning on getting revenge…you in?_

 _Miss ya,_

 _Talk to ya soon_

 _Chris'_

Putting his pen down, Chris sighed and muttered a few choice words. The letter disappeared instantly, and Chris rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, feeling unexpectedly tired.

Well, it wasn't as though he enjoyed having to lie to his brother - even if the lies were necessary.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so chapter 11 FINALLY appears, and is so very short compared with chapter 10. For this I apologise greatly to all my readers and reviewers, I did want to make it longer, honest I did, but I have been swamped with studying lately - it's exam month for me (my first one maths is on the 20th of May) so that had to take priority over the fic. However, I make a promise that now that I have officially finished High School, TiU will be looked at more this summer, with hopefully another few chapters (longer than this one) coming before my 18th in August. Hope you all enjoy what's here so far, and like always, I appericate reviews and am more than willing to answer any questions that you may have on the fic.
> 
> Just remember I own nothing but the laptop this story was written on
> 
> And on we go with the show...

Chris awoke the next morning, his stomach grumbling with hunger, the sound of the rain thumping heavily against the windows. He groaned at the sound, turning over and burying his head under his pillow. He could still feel the pain in his lip, and he was sure he had a lovely bruise on his cheek. With any luck Wonder Boy would look worse. He turned again, sitting up in the bed and staring. He was still dressed in his clothes from the previous day, and there was dried blood on his top. He sighed, wondering just why Sod's law always seemed to be active with him. He looked around the room, casually looking out of the window and realising it was just a little after dawn - there were tinges of orange in the sky where the sun was trying to break through the seemingly endless rain. His stomach grumbled loudly again, leading Chris to roll off the bed to get changed.

He grabbed a pile of clean clothes out of the trunk at the bottom of his bed, remembering his insistence that a suitcase would work better, and walked down into the bathroom/changing room that was attached to the dorm room. He stood in front of the mirror, carefully studying the injuries on his face. He had long since lost the power to heal - another reason why he hated the Elders - and often found that potions claimed more than they could actually achieve. His lip was swollen and bled every time he stretched it slightly. He was right about the bruise though, it was right on his cheek bone, just under his eye. It was a sickly yellow colour - the starting of a bruise - and was tender to touch. "Stupid," he told his reflection. "Never get involved in some stupid school fight, they're not worth the bruising."

Shaking his head he turned to changed his top, pausing with the clean one half way over his arms to stare at yet another scar. He had a few of them, and was surprised that he had managed to get so many in only a few short years, even if he did know the story behind each and every one of them. This particular scar was a sign of Chris' stubborn attitude when it came to living - he simply refused to die. His arms lowered slightly, the top slipping off them to fall on to the ground as Chris looked at the scar carefully. It wasn't as though this scar looked any different than the rest of them, it was just that he had almost died and this scar was the proof of it. He ran a finger over it slightly, remembering that day. "That's my life I suppose," Chris sighed, bending down to pick his top up again. He looked in the mirror once more, making sure that no old wounds had re-opened in his sleep, noting that if he breathed in deeply he could probably count all his ribs. Chris shook his head, clearing his mind of the thought, and pulling the clean top on, yet another long sleeved one, he wouldn't wear any other type. He was washed and dressed and back in his dorm room within a few short minutes.

No one else was awake yet in his dorm, meaning that he had no one to annoy yet. "Typical, I'm awake but no one else is, just typical," Chris muttered. "Might as well go see about getting something to eat in this place," he added moving toward the door of the dorm and orbing out.

As Chris orbed out, Harry woke up, the bright lights breaking into his sleep. "Wassat?" he asked the empty room.

 **XXX**

Chris walked into the Great Hall after having orbed to just outside of it. He looked around and was surprised to see some students already down and eating, one of whom was Hermione Granger. She wasn't eating but was sitting reading a book, a cup of coffee within her hand reach. Chris frowned, the book looked a little familiar. With an unfamiliar jolt in his stomach he placed the book as _'The Life of the Charmed'_ by Phoebe Halliwell. With a calm expression on his face, he walked over and slid into the seat beside Hermione. "Morning Beautiful, and can I tell you that little wrinkled nose you get when you concentrate? It's cute," he told her, smirking lightly.

Hermione blushed. "Good morning to you Chris," she replied pleasantly. There was a pause while Chris helped himself to coffee, mentally noting that it wasn't all that bad. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad. "Chris, you're one of Piper's sons right?" Hermione asked as casually as she could manage. Chris' eyebrow rose, he had been expecting this. "It just that, well in the book," Hermione continued, "it says that Piper was the only one to have sons and if you're a Halliwell…"

"Yeah, Piper was my mom. But I'm not the all powerful kid that Aunt Pheebs' book gloats about," Chris said, looking down at the table, his voice tined with a slight tone of sourness. "I'm the baby brother, not powerful but definitely the prettiest," he continued, a hint of self satisfaction appearing in his smirk on seeing Hermione's slight blush. If Chris was to guess, he would bet money that she'd never blushed as much before in her life. Though at the same time he'd bet that a random stranger had never just walked up and started flirting with her as openly as he had. No, Hermione was probably more used to the slightly shy style of flirting if she was used to any. "So why do you ask Beautiful?" Chris asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Well I was reading through the book, and cross referencing it with some other texts that mention the Charmed Ones, but no one seems to know what happened," Hermione explained, closing her book over. "One minute the Charmed Ones are there, and evil isn't winning, then they're just…gone." She turned to look at Chris with interest, obviously to her this was a puzzle that simply had to be solved. Chris paused. He should have expected this question to be asked. He had done all he could to hide the truth from the larger magical community. If anyone had found out the truth of that day… "Chris?" Hermione questioned again.

"Officially…I'm the only living Halliwell," Chris said, after careful consideration of his words. Hermione immediately soften, rushing to cover her insensitivity.

"Oh dear, Chris I am sorry, I didn't realise. Oh I am sorry," she garbled, stumbling over her words in an effort to get the apology out as many times as she could, as though numerous apologies would just how sorry she truly was. "I really am sorry," she said once again. Chris shrugged.

"Don't be. Not like you killed them is it?"

"No but I…"

"Beautiful, little bit of advice for you here," Chris said, holding his hand over Hermione's mouth, effectively silencing her for a short period of time. "Don't apologise for stuff you didn't do, it's stupid and boring and believe me when I say really not what people want to hear," he finished, removing his hand from her mouth. Hermione frowned, thinking over what he had just said

More people were beginning to arrive in the Great Hall, and it was filling up quite quickly. Although Chris had thought it was very early when he had woken it, it was nearer 7 in the morning, though the heavy rain had managed to disguise that fact. As such, the owl post was beginning to arrive. "…the hell?" Chris asked, looking up at the birds.

"Owl post, it's how wizards get their mail," Hermione explained, now finally starting to get some breakfast. Ron and Harry came and sat down opposite them, Harry sporting a black eye and a nasty looking cut on his eyebrow.

"God, Halliwell, are you completely brain dead that you don't even know that," Harry sneered over at Chris, mocking him. Chris' mouth twitched, a million and one decent insults trying to fight their way out. "Or is it just that you like to pretend you know more than you really do?" Harry asked, any pretence at friendship dead in the water. If Chris had cared, he would have been slightly saddened by this. But as it stood, Chris didn't care, and was as such glad for the stop in 'Wonder Boy's' overly kindness.

"Actually it's more the fact that I think using birds to deliver mail is completely unhygienic, the fact that birds can pick up diseases that can be passed on to humans is only the top of the iceberg," Chris told Harry casually, draining the last of his coffee. "But hey, whatever," he shrugged, watching with a small sense of joy at the slight panic on the faces of the surrounding Gryffindors who had heard his explanation. He picked up some toast and began to have his own breakfast, once again noting that the food wasn't as good as his… Well, perhaps it was just personal bias making him think that.

As hit bit into his toast a package, with attached letter, appeared on the table in front of him in a puff of smoke. Chris smirked slightly, _'Trust him to go for an eye-catching entrance,'_ he thought, placing his toast down. He reached forward and pulled the letter from the package, breaking the seal (a broken triquetra - Chris often thought it was a morbid piece of imagery) with ease and pulling out the sheets of paper within.

' _Christopher,_

 _A pleasure to hear from you brother, and glad to hear you are fitting in so well at your new place of learning. From what my 'advisors' have told me, the school is at least a thousand years old, with many secrets hidden in its many turrets. It would be an impressive stronghold, or 'lair' - why must you insist on using the cliché? - wouldn't it?_

 _A Gryffindor? Well brother, you do have a tendency to rush head first into things without thinking, isn't that a main feature of all Gryffindors? Even so, it is only right that a Halliwell be sorted into what it considered to be the best House at that school. It is only fitting of our place in the magical community. And yes, I did know Severus was working at Hogwarts, but I considered it to be unimportant information that would only hinder your efforts were you to be told about it._

 _No serious threats? Hm, it almost makes planning to infiltrate the school worthless. If it is as you say, and reports from Severus suggest the same, then I shall leave it. Thomas can have his little fun with the place, but I shall not bother with it. Though I think it wise for you to continue schooling there, what you learn may become fruitful in future battles with the wizarding community_

 _I would send you along entertainment, dear brother, but currently Barbas is out on a mission for myself. When he has returned I shall send him along. Hopefully he shall end your boredom. And it is wise not to jinx Severus to bow down to you, and I thought you didn't need your, what was it, 'ego stroked in the same manner that Tommy does'?_

 _It is safe for you to assume that I, also, am sort of missing your company as well, little brother. And I agree, we do need to meet up again soon, as there are many things that we shall need to discuss if you are ever to rule at my side as Lord Christopher._

 _Until then I extend my congratulations at being sorted into the seemingly best House at Hogwarts. I offer the gift as a congratulatory gift. I think it is safe for me to assume that you will like the gift._

 _Until we meet again, brother._

 _Lord Wyatt'_

Chris finished the letter, rolling his eyes at his brother's formal manner. He always seemed like he had to watch his diction and tone around Wyatt, not what he was saying. Chris reached forward, ripping away the wrapping on the package and pulling out its contents, a huge grin growing when he saw what it was his brother had sent him. "Now this is awesome," Chris said, holding up the leather jacket with a great rush of affection towards his brother.

"Who the hell sent you that," Ron muttered, a look of envy on his face. Chris looked over at him, still admiring his new jacket.

"It was an old flame of mine, very besotted with me. Broke her heart when we broke up," Chris said, a look of mock sadness on his face, tugging off his old battered denim jacket, and sliding the new leather one on, pleased that it fitted him well. He brushed invisible dust off the sleeves, and adjusted the collar till it sat the way he wanted it to. "And I gotta say, they've outdone themselves this time," Chris muttered, sitting himself back down on the bench.

As Chris sat down again, a large, pure white, snowy owl came flying into the Great Hall, and towards the Gryffindor House table. The fact that it was completely white in colour was enough to draw anyone's attention as it was very rarely that a snowy owl was purely white, more often than not there was specks of brown throughout their feathers. The attention of the hall was on this owl, watching it flew over and landed gracefully in front of Chris, who stared at the bird.

"Fly away home Cotter, 'cause I ain't touching you to get any letter off you," Chris drawled at the bird, who hooted indignantly back at Chris, obviously offended. "Seriously, go away," Chris said again, getting annoyed with the owl continuing to stare at him. He frowned, and turned to face Hermione. "Okay I'll bite, what the hell do I need to do to get rid of the owl Beautiful?" He asked. Hermione's face flushed again, a common occurrence, it seemed, when Chris spoke to her.

"It won't leave until you take your letter from it," she explained. "Here," she leant forward, untying the letter from the owl's leg easily, and handing it over to Chris. The bird hooted what could have been called a thanks towards Hermione and flew away again. Chris stared at the plain white envelope. The only person who would write to him was Wy, and Chris had already opened and read the letter from him.

Flames bursts from the floor of the Great Hall, causing some people to scream and others to run out of the Hall. (Apart from the Gryffindors who seemed to grab whatever they could, ready to throw it in case of attack). Cole stepped out of the flames, and snatched the letter from Chris' hand. Chris frowned. "And the meaning of this sudden visit is…?" He questioned Cole, who seemed to be avoiding looking at Chris. "Well do I get an explanation or do I pull out the lovely vanquishing potion that I know you love?" Chris frowned, noticing the tight grip which Cole had on his letter. "And do I get to read my mail?

"I'd really rather you didn't read this," Cole said, dodging out of Chris' way when he made to grab for the letter. Chris stood, glaring up at the older demon, wishing once again that he did have some form of control over fire, as threatening him with fire seemed to be the only way he could get Cole to listen to him. As the two stood, immersed in their glaring contest, Luna had wandered up to Chris, tapping him gently on his arm. Chris turned slightly, frowning at the sight of Luna, as did Cole.

"Chris, I think your friend has scared the school," Luna said, pointing the sight of the entire student body watching the confrontation between Cole and Chris. "Maybe you two should go somewhere just a little more private," she suggested, once again managing to make common sense sound as though it belonged in a fantasy story.

"Excuse me," Cole said, turning to fully look at Luna, "but who are you?" He asked her, a confused look clearly visible on his face. Luna smiled up at Cole, free from any fear that other students may have been feeling.

"Oh, pardon me. I'm Luna, Chris' friend," she explained in a dreamy tone. Cole blinked once, twice, before turning back to face Chris, a grin upon his face.

"You have a frien…" he began before Chris angrily cut him off.

"Yes I have a friend, isn't it a bloody miracle," he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm. He reached forward, using Cole's momentary distraction to steal his letter back off him. "You really need to stop acting like we're related Cole," Chris said, his lips twisting into a slightly cruel smile, "after all, that all stopped when you turned evil again didn't it?" Cole stared down at the teenager, his face suddenly blank. Chris smirked, tearing the white envelope open, and pulling out the sheets of white paper inside.

And immediately wished he hadn't.

"You okay?" Cole asked after a few moments, putting aside his anger at Chris. He had made a promise, and no matter how much Chris infuriated him, he refused to give up trying. "Chris?" he asked again, watching as the colour drained quickly out of the boy's face, and grabbing on to him when he stumbled forward.

"…Why now?" Chris' voice cracked, a tremor of what could have been called fear running up his spine. "It's been nearly a year Cole, why now?" He asked again, eyes wide with fear, yet eyebrows knitted together with anger.

"I don't know," Cole admitted, watching Chris carefully. "I only found out a few seconds before the owl arrived here, I swear if I'd known sooner…" he trailed off. What would he have done if he had known about the letter sooner? Technically he couldn't do anything, the man did have every right to write to Chris. Didn't mean Cole had to like that fact though. Or that Chris had to like it either. "Listen, you don't need to do anything, no one's asking you to do anything," Cole insisted, trying to sound sympathetic, something which he often failed at.

"He is," Chris answered shortly, his usual tone gone, even his smirk seemed to be gone. He stood, the letter still grasped tightly in his hand, staring furiously at the ground. "I don't get it. It's been over a year, right after…" Chris stopped, swallowing loudly to try to remove a lump in his throat. Luna placed her hand on his arm, a questioning look on her face. He sighed, looking directly at Cole. "I don't care what he says, I'm not even going to humour the idea, tell him that will you?"

Cole sighed, "Chris I can't tell him anything, he won't listen to me," he explained, wondering if he had done the right thing in stealing a bit of the man's robes to be placed in Chris' wand. Chris' grip on the letter tightened, and it seemed to Cole as though Chris was trying to get his nails to dig into the palm of his hand, despite the fact the paper was in the way.

"Why the hell does he have to get all high and mighty? I've been doing brilliantly without him, he's just…." Chris ranted, his anger growing. "For god's sake the man wasn't even that great of a father!" He said, still glaring down at the stone floor as if his father were standing there himself. Cole sighed again.

"Chris I can't stop Leo from writing to you, he does have every right to contact you," he explained gently. "Legally at least," he added quickly, mentally remembering that personal feelings were completely different to what he was referring to.

"I don't want him contacting me again Cole," Chris said, fury evident in his voice. "Especially not complete bull shit like this," he added, scrunching the letter up tightly. "It's been one whole fucking year, he has no right to barge in and attempt to take control, not now," Chris breathed heavily, his grip on the scrunched up paper ball increasing.

Cole watched Chris carefully, knowing that when he was angry he would become a danger to both other, but importantly, himself. "Okay, Chris, I know he has no right to barge in, but you need to calm down."

"What I need is for Leo to leave me alone," Chris shot back, finally looking up from the ground, his face showing just how angry he was. "All he ever does is prod and poke and screw up my life, and I'm sick of it and I just wish that…argh!" He screamed, holding up the paper ball and scrunching it down further. As he screamed his frustration, the fist he was holding up, the fist which held the letter from Leo, burst in flames, engulfing his whole hand. There was a moment of complete silence, as the whole hall stared at the fist, watching the flames burn brightly.

"Fuck!" Chris swore, opening his fist and letting the remains of the paper fall to the floor, the flames disappearing from his hand as quickly as they appeared. The noise in the Great Hall returned as well, filled with muttered and whispers, all staring at Chris. Cole, having broken out of his frozen staring by the sound of Chris yet again, jumped forward, grabbing the hand and examining it. There wasn't a single burn mark, no sign that just a few moments previously this whole hand had been on fire. He dropped the hand, looking at Chris whose breathing had returned to normal. Chris ran his other hand over the hand which had been on fire, disbelief on his face.

"I think…I think I just got a new power."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short (to me at least...well it looks short when it gets uploaded) chapter, but one that was fun to write...especially the last few bits. Exam studying going well, with last exam on Monday so yay. Hopefully then I'll be able to give the fic a bit more focus this summer, it'll take my mind of the exam results at least.
> 
> Big thanks to all my reviewers, every little review makes me smile and that's good.
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies. And on we jolly well go

After his 'little display' in the Great Hall, Chris had been quickly shoved into a side room, while the teachers gathered anxiously around him, trying to decide the best course of action to take. Truth be told, they had no idea what to do, nothing like this had ever happened before at Hogwarts. Students did not start spouting fire from their hands, from their wands yes, but never from their hands. They were quite perplexed at what they should do, and to make up for it, they stormed around angrily making accusations and raising their voices to sound more important than the last person who had spoken. The general opinion of all the teachers in the room - with Umbridge agreeing hysterically loudly - was that Chris was a danger to other students if he could not control his power, which they sincerely doubted her could, and should be removed from the school.

"If I could maybe speak up on my own behalf," Chris yelled in a bored tone, demanding the attention which rightly he should be given. After all, it was him they were speaking of. "I'm not some stupid kid you know, I can handle power changes," he said, glaring at those who would dare to disagree with him.

"Chris, it is not that we are doubting you," Dumbledore started, in what was obviously meant to be a kind, grandfatherly tone, something which Chris didn't appreciate one bit.

"Sure as hell sounds like it Gandalf," Chris snorted, turning round in his seat to face the teachers. To the side of the room, leaning against the wall next to the doorway, Cole stood, looking as bored with the whole situation as Chris felt. Chris frowned, looking at Cole for a moment or two, remembering that Cole was in fact a demon, and that one of his powers was fire based as well…

"Mr Halliwell, you will show the Headmaster due respect," McGonagall snapped at him. "As your Head of House, I am informing you that it is not a case of us doubting your abilities, we have all heard the stories of the Halliwell family," Chris snorted. They didn't even know the half of it. "It is merely a case of protecting the majority of the student body until you have fully mastered the power," McGonagall finished, looking quite displeased at the way in which Chris had been cruelly mimicking her as she spoke.

"Chris," Cole's voice spoke out as a warning. Chris' eye brow rose, but he fell silent, smirking up at the teaching staff. He didn't need to speak to annoy people, as he had learned. Cole watched for a moment, groaning inwardly at Chris' arrogance before speaking. "If you're really worried about him, I could train him," he offered. A loud tut came from Umbridge.

"You are not a Ministry trained teacher!" Her voice shrieked, causing everyone present to wince slightly. "What would you know of teaching?" She accused, glaring at Cole as if he was Voldemort himself, committing the most horrible acts in front of her. Cole sighed.

"So maybe a demonstration then?" He suggested, in his most lawyerly tones. He turned to Chris. "Stand up then kid," he said, hoping that just this once, Chris would go along with him, and do as he asked. Chris stared at Cole unblinkingly.

"And on what crazy planet did I suddenly start listening to you?" Cole sighed, his fingers pinching his nose and his eyes squeezing shut. Why was it that his dealings with the youngest Halliwell brought on terrible headaches? He really was too much like his mother at times. Cole's mind raced, searching for a reason that Chris would accept.

"Well, it's not listening to me per se," Cole started slowly, hoping that this rather weak, in his opinion that is, reason would hold well with Chris. "It's more, annoying the teachers?" Chris' head tilted, obviously considering this information. After a moment or two he stood, kicking his chair back, smirking when it scraped against the floor. Cole gave a brief smile and then turned to a more business like manner.

"Right, now what emotion was greatest when the fire appeared?" He asked, already knowing the answer, but realising the need to see professional in front of these teachers. Chris sighed, his eyes rolling.

"Why I believe I was overjoyed to see that my dearest daddy had wrote to me," Chris drawled, his tone laced with sarcasm and venom at the mention of Leo. Cole paused, waiting until he was sure Chris wouldn't 'blow his top' there and then.

"Can you grab hold that that emotion for me Chris?" Cole asked, watching carefully as Chris closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as he drew his anger forward. "Now, imagine all that anger, just clenched in your right fist, can you do that?" Cole continued, his voice soft and calming, a contrast to the anger which Chris was using. He watched as the young witchlighter's right fist clenched, clutching on to the anger. "Now, imagine the fire, in your hand, swirling into a small ball. When you've done that, let it go," Cole finished, somewhat lamely, running out of ways to explain it.

There was a few moments of silence, as Chris complied with Cole's instructions. His eyes shot open, holding up at hand with crackling fire in it. He thrust his hand forward, letting the fireball go. A devilish smirk grew on his face as the fireball headed straight towards Delores Umbridge who screamed.

"Aw…why did ya have to go and save her," Chris moaned as McGonagall extinguished with fireball with a fountain of water from her wand. "I wanted to watch Toadie burn," he gnashed his teeth together, enjoying the small squirm Umbridge gave before she found her voice.

"Detention Mr Halliwell! And you WILL be attending this one," Umbridge snapped at Chris. "And don't you dare roll your eyes at me!"

"Great…" Cole moaned, covering his face in his hands. Chris with fire power, they'd be lucky if Hogwarts was still intact at the end of the day.

"Mr Tuner, if you please," Dumbledore beckoned him over. Cole nodded once, walking over. Even the demons in the deepest reaches on the underworld had heard something of Albus Dumbledore. What they had heard was not, perhaps, what the wizarding world knew about him, but it had grudgingly earned him some form of respect. "I think, perhaps, that it would be both in the best interests of Chris, and of his fellow students, if you were to train Chris in how to use his new power.

"Headmaster why?" McGonagall interjected before Cole had time to reply to Dumbledore. "From that little display there, it is clear that Chris has control of his powers already," she added dryly, pursing her lips and sending a small glare towards Cole, an action which the rest of the teaching staff seemed to be favouring.

"No he hasn't," Cole said quickly.

"No I haven't," Chris said at the exact same time. The two turned to stare at each other, both wondering the other's motives behind what they had said. Chris broke the staring match by turning to face Dumbledore. "Seriously Gandalf, you unleash me without proper training this damp infested castle will be a pile of ash by the end of the day." The teachers all paused, turning to stare at the youngest Halliwell who was, for once, without smirk or irony in his tone. "And, you should let Demon Dude here teach me," he pointed over at Cole, who was still frowning trying to work out just what it was that Chris was planning.

"And when do you suggest lessons take place?" Snape asked, in a tone of little interest. Chris' eyebrow rose only slightly at the tone, knowing that they both had to play a role in this side. "I certainly not give you permission to miss my lessons, despite that it will most likely be a more pleasant atmosphere with your disruptive influence removed."

Cole frowned, Chris had only been in Potions once, and already he was classed as a disruptive influence? He had to hand it to the kid, he sure as hell worked fast. "Well, logically it'll be at night, after dinner when no lessons are on. We'll start tonight," he said. "That is, if the Headmaster agrees," he added, nodding once at Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded in return, giving his consent.

"Ahem, ahem," the girlish cough of Umbridge sounded out throughout the room as all eyes turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Headmaster," she said, not looking very sorry at all, "But I'm afraid that the arrangement can't be like that. You see, Mr Halliwell has detention with me every night this week." McGonagall frowned.

"And why was I, as his Head of House, not informed of this Delores?" She snapped, looking very annoyed. Umbridge blinked once, smiling sweetly at her.

"But I did inform. I sent Halliwell along to your office with a note to tell you," she smile widen slightly. "It appears that he did not show up." They turned once again to look at Chris, who shrugged lightly.

"Oops?" He offered, clearly not caring. "You've got a choice. Either I go to detention and end up burning the school down, or you let me go train with my new powers," he told them. "And it's not like I want to spend time with Demon Dude," he scowled. "Freakin' idiot always gets on at me."

"Like I really want to spend time with you, you obnoxious brat," Cole said lightly, quickly realising what Chris was attempting to do. If they gave out the appearance that hated each other, and Cole was sure Chris wasn't acting, it would mean all the teachers would agree to the training sessions. Which would work into both of their plans, Cole assumed, at least on his half it would. He needed an excuse to spend more time at Hogwarts. If Chris was planning to do what Cole highly suspect he was…well at the very least the kid would need all the support he could get.

Umbridge stared at the pair. "It is not Ministry protocol to allow a non teacher to teach a student," she pointed out, seemingly to the room at large.

"An, but alas, Delores, we are not skilled in this particular brand of magic," Dumbledore said, smiling in an absent manner. "And, as it happens, Mr Turner is." There was a pause, as Dumbledore allowed Umbridge to take this information in. "I think that this once, Ministry protocol must be set aside as we think of what is best for the child,"

"I'm not a child!" Chris interrupted Dumbledore angrily.

"Forgive an old man, Chris, it was simply a turn of phrase," he said, a small twinkle visible in his eyes. "Now, I believe that Mr Turner's suggestion is, at present, our best course of action. And as such, I give permission as Headmaster of this school for Chris to be excused from his detentions to attend his lessons with Mr Turner." Cole's mouth twitched at this, while Chris broke into a smirk. "And now, although I do wish for you to attend classes this afternoon, you are excused from your morning classes to find a room in which lessons to control your room power may take place."

Chris nodded, sitting and watching as the teachers left the room to attend their own classes, Umbridge looking put out by Dumbledore's ruling. Cole closed the door behind them and stared at Chris, who was lazing across the seat he had been sitting in. "What are you planning?"

"Planning? Moi? Why Cole, you do have the very worst opinion of me don't you?" Chris drawled, looking around the room they were in. It was quite large, with high ceilings and a wide floor space. "Here will do for lessons," he said to Cole, jumping out of his lazy position with a sudden energy.

"Chris," Cole said, a slight tone in his voice. Chris laughed lightly.

"Honestly Cole, this paranoia is not good for you," Chris said, affecting the tone of one who cared. "Your aura is all outta whack, here, there's these things called drugs. You should really try 'em, might loosen you up a bit." And with that Chris orbed out of the room.

Cole sighed, collapsing into the now empty seat. He had to try to teach _that_? And he was excepted to succeed where so many others had failed, just because he had the dumb luck of making that promise. Why he revealed himself to Dumbledore in the first place he'd never know. No, he did know. It was the only way to alter the wards of the school so that he, and only he, could flame into the school. It was one of the few ways of keeping his promise and Dumbledore knew it.

"Always knew that man was a manipulative old bat," Cole muttered, flaming out.

 **XXX**

Chris had decided the night before that only his morning classes interested him, so, ignoring what Dumbledore had told him, he decided to go to only those classes. His first class, which happened to be Double Charms, was taken by tiny Professor Flitwick, who had spent the first fifteen minutes of the lesson lecturing the class on something known to them as the OWLs. What unsanitary methods of mail delivery had to do with lessons, Chris didn't know, mostly as he tuned out of the lecture. When his lecture had finished, Flitwick set the class on revising Summoning Charms. Chris watched as the students pointed at objects using their wands, and chanting the phrase 'accio', which Chris found slightly humorous as 'accio' Latin for summon.

"The Force is strong in this one," he muttered loudly, watching at the Wonder Boy summoned yet another object to him. Flitwick passed Chris as he made this remark, and gave a small titter of laughter.

"Now come along young Halliwell, surely you know how to cast a Summoning Charm," the professor squeaked, smiling expectantly at Chris. Chris stared for a moment, not quite believing that a teacher actually squeaked at him, before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out his wand. He still wasn't sure what to make of this wand and, as a result, was very reluctant to use it. He set it down on the table. "Mr Halliwell?" Flitwick asked, confusion evident in his squeak voice.

"Hey teach, watch this," Chris smirked, holding his hand out flat. Mentally he called for the textbook which was sitting at the top of the pile which Flitwick had stood on while making his lecture. The book disappeared in a flurry of orbs, reappearing in Chris' hand. Flitwick gave a small gasp. "Why that is quite remarkable Mr Halliwell, ten points to Gryffindor!" The tiny teacher squeaked. Chris smirked as the bell rang, slightly surprised to see the 'return' of his more academically inclined side. He supposed it was the effect of having to stay in a school. He shuddered slightly. He was falling into old habits that he couldn't afford, not if he wanted to do what he had been planning.

The beginning of Double Transfiguration went a lot like the beginning of Double Charms, the only difference being that it was now Professor McGonagall lecturing them on the importance of the OWLs. Chris had managed to discover that they were some form of examination, that Hogwarts students sat in their fifth year to decide which level they would study at in their final two years at the school. Or at least, that was the way that Chris understood them

"So…today we are starting Vanishing Spells," Professor McGonagall was telling the class. "These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT levels, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL." From what Chris was seeing, what McGonagall had said was quite right. The majority of the class seemed to find the spells horribly difficult, although Hermione seemed to be fairing quite well. Chris stared down at the snail he had been given, poking it slightly. The snail's head tuned slightly, making as if to stare back up at Chris

"I think I'll call you Sammy," Chris muttered, rubbing his finger along the snail's shell. "You really don't know what the fuck is happening here do you Sammy?" Chris asked his snail, getting no reply, not that he had really expected one in the first place. "Right conversationalist ain't ya Sammy?"

"Halliwell!" The sharp bark caused Chris to raise his head from the desk slightly, a movement which seemed even lazier than it should have done. "Why have you not made an attempt to vanish your snail yet?" McGonagall demanded. Chris gave a look of shock.

"Vanish Sammy? Are you mad woman?" He cried, acting as though he were deeply offended. "I can't vanish Sammy, we've bonded," he sniffed.

"Halliwell unless you make an attempt to vanish that snail within the next minute I shall be forced to give you lunchtime detention," McGonagall warned him, her lips thin with restrained annoyance. Chris' eyebrow rose slightly, but he made no comment. He stared at Sammy for a moment, before turning to look up at McGonagall, suddenly aware of every student's eyes on them.

"Vanish the snail, right?" He asked McGonagall, waiting for her nod to confirm what it was he was meant to be doing. When the nod came he looked back down at Sammy, frowning slightly, before making a quick hand gesture. Sammy vanish in, similar to Charms, a flurry of orbs. There was a pause as McGonagall stared at the spot where the snail had previously stood.

"That," she managed after a few moments of silence, "was not the task you were assigned, Halliwell."

Chris frowned. "Sammy has been Vanished. Anyway, you told me to 'vanish' the snail," he pointed out. "Didn't specify how," Chris finished, a smirk secure on his face. McGonagall stared down at him, considering her options.

"It is correct to assume that you know how to bring the snail back?" She asked. Chris nodded only slightly. "Very well then, bring the snail back and try it again with the correct spell." Chris' eyebrow rose again, staring at McGonagall with an incredulous look. Apparently she wasn't joking. He scowled, waving his hand to bring Sammy back.

"Sorry, Sammy, but this screwed up witch here wants me to vanish you 'properly'," Chris said loudly, well aware that McGonagall was watching him closely, waiting until he completed the task. He reached into his pocket, taking out his wand and staring at it for a moment or two, his thumb automatically running itself over the triquetra carved into the handle.

"Now Halliwell," McGonagall ordered. Chris raised his wand, pointing it straight at Sammy. He remained like that for a few moments.

"Oh, fuck this," he muttered, lowering his wand. He turned to face McGonagall. "Listen, you know as well as I do wand magic ain't my thing.," he laughed lightly. "I've never used one in my life, I doubt I'm automatically gonna be able to do a spell which, as you say yourself, is one of the hardest for this year group to learn." Chris' voice was even and calm, explaining his reasoning well. "I'll learn the theory, I'll do the damn essays and homework shit, but practical is a big no."

McGonagall looked down at Chris, surprised at the teen's level of arrogance that allowed him to swear casually in front of a teacher. Though she may be strict, she was not unkind, and she considered what Chris had told her carefully. It would be quite cruel to force him now, at nearly 16 years of age, to change his entire way of using his magics. And there was the problem of the teachers at Hogwarts, herself included, not being entirely sure as to how Chris' magic worked exactly. From the demonstration made by himself and Mr Turner this morning, it was obvious that it focused more on emotions than on the almost 'wish' like quality wand magic had.

"In that case, Mr Halliwell, I would like an essay on the theory of the spell, including definition and warnings about the spell," she relented. The bell choose that moment to ring loudly, signalling lunch time. Chris stood from his seat quickly, allowing Sammy to crawl into his hand, before leaving the class room.

 **XXX**

"How dare you 'accidentally bang' into me!" A haughty voice was loudly proclaiming. "You filthy lunatic! I don't want your madness rubbing off on me!" Chris frowned. That voice really was annoying, but it was familiar at the same time. He walked towards it, rounding the corner that lead him into the Entrance Hall. There stood Luna, and…someone else who Chris didn't actually know but who looked very familiar, flanked by two overgrown shaved gorillas. "That's all you are isn't it? Stark raving bonkers? It's a wonder you've even managed to last this long. Rumour has it your mad mum blew herself up…"

Chris glared. Luna looked deeply hurt by that remark, and from what Chris knew of Luna, she wasn't one to let insults get to her. "Hey! Caspar!" Chris called across the hall, drawing the attention of the three boys and Luna. "I'm talking to the Billy Idol wannabe," he drawled, pointing to the tall boy, who had a pale, pointed face, and sleek white-blonde hair. "Yeah you, you ever heard of picking on someone your own size?"

"Just who do you think you are, you bloody Yank!" The boy called. "How dare you call me by a ridiculous Muggle's name! I am a Malfoy!"

"Oh, so you're a different species, well that explains it all," Chris shot back, a small smirk forming. Malfoy…that explained why this boy was so familiar to him. His father worked for Tommy.

"My NAME is Malfoy," Malfoy yelled, "Draco Malfoy. And who would you be, yank?" Chris smirked.

"Oh, forgive me Caspar, I'm Chris," there was a brief pause. "Chris Halliwell." Chris watched, amused at the sight of Malfoy's eyes widening in what could only be called fear. Apparently, Chris' name and reputation preceded him.

"H…Halliwell?" Malfoy stumbled over the name, wondering what the great, and infamous among Death Eaters, Lord Christopher was doing in a school. In Hogwarts. He quickly regained his normal nature. Never let it be said that a Malfoy appear flustered for longer than a second. "Sticking up for weirdos Halliwell? Those who are beneath you?" he scoffed. "I can show you your real friends here at Hogwarts, those who are worthy of a Halliwell's friendship," he finished, extending his hand.

Chris looked down at the pale hand, pushing it away. "Yeah, except I think that I can find my own friends. And trust me Caspar, there's more chance of, oh shall we say Snape wearing a hot pink dress than of you ever being 'worthy' of my friendship." Malfoy's hand dropped, a scowl appearing on his face. "I mean, you were annoying my good friend Lunar there," Chris nodded over at Luna, who had regained her dreamy expression. "Who should really go get her lunch now, huh Lunar?" Chris said, shooting a good natured smirk towards the Ravenclaw who simply nodded and wandered away.

"Now, Malfoy junior, where the hell do you get off trying to hurt my friends?" Chris asked calmly, only a small flash of his anger showing in his eyes.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Malfoy added, gritting his teeth, "but I was not aware that you had taken the school freak as a friend."

"And there you go again, insulting my friend," Chris said, walking around Malfoy slowly, similar to how a hunter stalks his prey. "Really, Drake boy, we need to work on your manners," a dark look crossed Chris face, his fingers running over the three scars at his collarbone, through the cotton of his top. "After all, your father's obsessed with them," he muttered darkly.

"My Lord…?" Malfoy asked, clearly confused. His goons exchanged looks of confusion, well it was either confusion or hunger, as well.

"Your gorillas, get rid of them," Chris ordered, his voice barely above that of a whisper. Malfoy nodded once, dismissing Crabbe and Goyle without so much as a backwards glance at them. "Now, Drake, you made a friend of mine sad, and I can't allow that," Chris said, trying to affect the quiet, commanding tone that Wyatt often used. He had no way of telling if it was working or not, as Malfoy would never dare to speak out against him.

"My Lord I was only…" Malfoy began

"You know what, you just shut up," Chris said, "'Cause, you know, sorta listening to me talking here." Chris sighed, it had been a long day. "Now, Ferret Boy, I think the only way to deal with you, is public humilation," a smirk crossed over Chris' features.

"My Lord?" Malfoy questioned, as Chris neared him.

 **XXX**

It was later that afternoon, during a study period, that Draco Malfoy was discovering, body locked, in the Gryffindor common room. He had been covered in wrapping paper, with a gift note attached:  
 _'Think of this as an early Christmas present'_

The Weasley twins, who had been first into the common room, along with a prefect who had immediately run to find Professor McGonagall, exchanged identical wicked grins.

"Wicked."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Fastest ever update from me, but I had been looking forward to this particular chapter for a while now, and it has been one of the few that I can say were completely planned out, from beginning to end. And my last exam is on Monday, so that has to be a good sign.
> 
> My standard disclaimer applies, and again I love reviews, they really do make my day. Or night. Or early morning when I really should be sleeping but am instead fully awake and sitting typing up these chapters.
> 
> Hope you like it!

Time moved on quickly from the time Draco Malfoy was found in the Gryffindor common room, and Chris had learned many things about life in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The first thing he had learned was that it was never appropriate to report to his head of house with the phrase 'I have it on good authority that you have no evidence,' as that incriminated him further. He had also learned that the two current title holders of 'greatest pranksters in the school', Fred and George Weasley, had declared him as their new hero. He had also learned that there were many things he was not allowed to do at Hogwarts, and had began to compile a list of them, for future reference.

Within his first few weeks at Hogwarts, Chris had broken the record for the most detentions gained. Though he had to serve them all during his lunch hour, Chris took pride in this record. A new scar shone on the back of his hand, reading 'I told you I was hardcore,' instead of the 'I must desist in my persistent lying and misbehaviour' Umbridge had wanted him to write. To his great displeasure, Umbitch, as he had chosen to call her, had been named as the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, and now had to the power to change the rules within the school on a whim. At least, that's how it seemed to Chris.

Cole had also found his place in the school, having been formally announced as a new teacher to the entire student body. Though he didn't teach a proper class, he mostly supervised study rooms and stood in if a teacher was sick, he had fast become the most popular teacher in school. He also had his own legion on student fan girls, who giggled loudly every time he passed by. Chris had also gained fan girls, though they had learned never to giggle in front of him if they didn't want to be embarrassed in front of the whole school.

Chris had also progress in gaining control of his new power faster than he had personally thought he would. He had often stated that he wasn't powerful enough to have a control of fire, yet he kept proving himself wrong. Given the circumstances in which his power came to him, Cole was glad that Leo hadn't tried to contact Chris again. Chris was happy with this development as well, though he was slightly displeased to see that Wyatt hadn't tried to contact him again either. Despite it all, he did miss his brother, and he found it hard to find the time between his detentions and his training sessions to orb out of the castle to go and visit him.

Which was another problem in itself. The teachers did not like Chris' habit of orbing here, there, and everywhere within the school. Excluding, of course, Professor Flitwick who thought it a marvellous bit of magic. They understood that while Chris may not be able to do magic with a wand, it did not mean that he could not walk. They had spoken to Cole about the matter, seeing as Chris was completely ignoring every other member of staff within the school, but he had just explained to him that stopping Chris from orbing was like stopping people from breathing - he didn't realise he was doing it the majority of the time as it was just second nature to him.

Chris had never been more impressed by Cole's talent's at lying.

What was also interesting about Hogwarts, Chris begrudgingly admitted, was the actual student life. Fred and George has taken it upon themselves, and their little group, to show Chris the high life of Hogwarts. All in all it was pretty tame compared to some of the stuff which Chris had done before, but it killed time and was enjoyable. The one thing which everyone raved on about, though, was the monthly trip to Hogsmeade.

"Okay so I don't get it Lunar. What's so damn exciting about a stupid little village?" Chris asked one night over dinner. He and Luna had taken to sitting at whatever table they pleased, and most often went to whichever table had the tastiest looking food. Unfortunately for Chris, this often turned out to be Gryffindor.

"Well, it's a purely magical community for one," Luna started, beginning to recite facts and figures that she had read in textbooks from memory. Though this was not a habit one expected of Luna Lovegood, the 'freakiest' girl in Hogwarts, she was a Ravenclaw, and there were some habits of Ravenclaw students that they all got - no matter how far their head was up in the clouds.

"Lunar, Lunar," Chris interjected quickly, "no facts and figures. Tell me why people like this place, not what makes it special."

Luna blinked, and her brow furrowed slightly as she thought. "Well I expect its due to the fact that we get away from the school, if only for a little bit," she answered after much consideration. "I quite like visiting the Shrieking Shack, though I've never seen any of the ghosts that live there."

"…A haunted building called the Shrieking Shack?" Chris questioned. "Wow, this place certainly ain't doing anything to dispel the stereotype of the magical kind." He then paused, looking around, "then again what can I except with a school still stuck in the middle ages?"

Luna giggled lightly, an action she often took with what Chris said. He cracked a small smirk himself, Luna always seemed to enjoy herself. She looked back up at Chris. "Well perhaps we'll see a Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Daddy wrote and said it had been reported that some have been spotted in Hogsmeade," she smiled happily. Chris looked at her, once again amazed by her way believing without seeing.

"Yeah, maybe we will," he answered. Luna smiled, returning to her dinner, before pausing once more and looking up.

"But Chris, you need permission from a parent or guardian to go," she said in a slightly sad tone of voice. Chris frowned. That was a problem, he didn't have either. "Perhaps they'll make an exception," Luna said hopefully. "It would be lovely if you could come to Hogsmeade." There was a brief pause, as Luna smiled again. "I expect it will be so much better going with someone instead of on one's own."

"Yeah…" Chris said, deep in thought.

 **XXX**

"What do you mean?" Chris questioned McGonagall loudly.

"What I said, Halliwell, and would you please stop yelling," McGonagall said, continuing to grade the essays she had taken in from the class that very day. "We are not on the quidditch field, nor as either of us hard of hearing."

"But what do you mean I already have permission?" Chris asked, completely and utterly confused, for once. "I don't have any living parents or guardians, so how the hell did you get permission?" McGonagall turned to stare at Chris, obviously displeased with the manner in which he addressed her. "Miss?" He added reluctantly on to the end.

"Better Halliwell, and all you need care about is that you have permission," she answered him, turning her attention back to the essays which she was marking. "Honestly, I have never had a student complain that they have permission, usually it's because they were refused permission. You really are one for bucking the trends aren't you?"

"Yeah that's me. The annoying little punk non conformist shit who bucks the trends," Chris rolled his eyes. He had heard it all before, and had ever version memorised. "Listen, Minerva," he began.

"When we are at school, you shall refer to me as Professor McGonagall," McGonagall interrupted him. "You may be a member of the Order, but you are also a student and in the current climate it would not do to have you seen as anything else."

"Yeah, yeah I know," Chris muttered. He sighed and tried again. "Professor McGonagall, I know I'm possibly the most annoying student you have ever come across and that I have no right to be asking such things, but let me see the form?" McGonagall looked up at Chris, staring long and hard at him.

"You know, that talent for acting that you have must have come in handy when you were at your old school," she told him, handing him the piece of parchment which was his permission form. Chris grinned.

"You know it Minne," he told her, flipping open the parchment and reading it. He could have sworn his heart stopped for a second when he read it.

' _I, Piper Halliwell, as the mother of Christopher Victor Perry Halliwell, do herby give him permission to visit the village of Hogsmeade at the times allocated.'_

"Mom," his voice cracked slightly, as his fingers ran over his mother's handwriting. Of course, Luna was her charge, and she would have mentioned the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade to his mother. And his mother, she would never let him be left out of anything.

"Hm?" McGonagall questioned, looking up once again from her essays. "Did you say something Halliwell?" She asked, looking over at Chris. He stared down at the parchment for a few more moments, before placing it carefully back on the desk.

"No, no….nothing Professor."

 **XXX**

The morning that the Hogsmeade visit was planned was a bright morning, but very windy. After his usual breakfast, toast and coffee - he needed caffeine to function properly in the mornings - Chris made his way with Luna to join the queue in front of the caretaker Filch, who marked the students names off of his long list. The walk down into the village was quiet and uneventful, Luna nattering away in her dreamy tones, discussing every bird, tree and stone which crossed their path.

"Oh, and we must visit the Hog's Head today," Luna added in the middle of her random nattering. "I hear that there is going to be a group meeting there today, and it's for people who wish to study Defence Against the Dark Arts properly," she added, "and not the simple book reading we're made to do."

"Fair enough Lunar, I'll just follow you," Chris shrugged. He wasn't entirely bothered what they did today, though he couldn't quite shake this feeling he had been getting since they had left the castle. It was familiar, too familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn't place it. Personally, he thought he was losing his touch.

He was still wondering what the feeling was exactly, and why it was so familiar, when he and Luna walked into the Hog's Head. Chris didn't have much experience with bars, despite that fact that he was now the owner of P3, but he could tell that the Hog's Head was not one of the best. The bar comprised of one small, dingy and extremely dirt room that had a strong smell of goats. The windows were so deeply encrusted with grim that only the smallest amount of daylight could penetrate into the room. It was instead lit with stubby little candles, which sat upon the rough wooden tables.

Chris realised what an odd sight it must have made, him walking in behind Luna Lovegood almost like a bodyguard, while she wandered in looking so dreamy that people could have sworn she just came by accident. As the bar slowly filled with people, only a few of whom Chris vaguely recognised, the familiar feeling grew. Last to walk into the bar where Fred and George Weasley, along with Luperca Black, Craig Lupin their friend Lee Jordan, who Chris had been introduced to after being declared the new hero of the twins. They greeted Chris and turned to order drinks at the bar. Something called Butterbeer. After a few tentative sips, Chris decided that the drink wasn't for him.

In twos and threes, the arrivals settled around the table that the Golden Trio were seated at. Chris scowled when he noticed that it was obviously them who had called this meeting. Luna stared out into a space, a dreamy expression upon her face, looking as though she didn't have a single care in the world.

"Er, well - er - hi," Hermione said, her voice slightly squeakier than usual due to nerves. The group gave her their attention momentarily, though everyone's eyes kept darting to Harry. "Well … erm … well, you know why you're here. Erm … well, Harry here had the idea - I mean," she changed suddenly, noticing the sharp look Harry was throwing her "I had the ideas - that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts - and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us - " It was here that Chris began to tune out of the talk, boredom setting in quickly. He vaguely wondered what Wyatt was up to, and if he had been successful in getting the vampires to finally agree to join him, when something of interest came up in Hermione's speech. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because … because … " she took in a deep breath, steeling herself, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

At this statement, the reactions were immediate and somewhat predictable. There were gasps, and shrieks, and shudders, yet all eyes turned once again to Harry. Chris listened intently as Hermione got in an argument with a blonde boy he recognised as being in Hufflepuff about whether or not Voldemort was back. Chris bite back a smirk. He could offer them proof that Voldemort was back, but doing so would compromise his mission. As Hermione attempted to get the meeting once more on track, various students interrupted, questioning Harry about various heroic deeds he was said to have done. As it turned out, all the rumours were true and he had done each deed. Though he didn't see any pride in it.

"Look," Harry said and everyone fell silent at once. "I … I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything but … I had a lot of help with that stuff," he claimed. Chris rolled his eyes. Wonder Boy was making himself sound like a bloody martyr. Yet another argument started up after this statement, though for her credit, Hermione was quick to stop it.

"Moving on … the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?" She asked, getting a murmur of general agreement. Hermione looked relieved. "Right, well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting once a week - " The quidditch players, a sport which Chris did not understand and had no wish to understand, interrupted then to argue over clashing with training times. Which then lead on to a revelation which Chris had only heard rumours of.

"We think that the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts, is that she's got some … some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry," Hermione said.

Luna was the only one, apart from Chris himself, who did not look surprised at this news. "Well that makes sense," she piped up. "After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" Harry asked, looking completely thrown by the statement.

"Yes," Luna said, "he's got an army of Heliopaths." Hermione then snapped at Luna, saying that it wasn't true. Chris frowned. It was times like this he wondered how someone could be a witch, yet not believe that something could be possible even if there aren't any facts for it. Of course, the truth was the Fudge did have an army, but it wasn't an army of Heliopaths. After all, Heliopaths had been extinct for nearly 10 years.

"I'm sorry but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione, arguing about the existence of Heliopaths with Luna. Chris cut in quickly.

"Well there isn't any proof anymore," he said casually. Hermione blinked, looking at him.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"Well, Heliopaths are extinct, sorry to burst your bubble Lunar but they are," he apologised to Luna, who smiled softly at Chris. "But they did exist. Very peaceful they were, people just didn't like them 'cause they burned everything they touched," Chris sniffed. "Not their fault really. Anyway, it was the fire that killed them in the end," he added solemnly. Hermione blinked, shocked to be proven wrong. "If you want proof, Granger," he said, reverting to the use of her surname only, "I have a few books I could show you."

"I think I'd like that, it would be interesting to see - " Hermione began, only to be interrupted by Ginny, who managed to get the meeting back on track after it had been deviated from it yet again. Eventually, after many starts and stops, and arguments and random moments of fawning over Wonder Boy, the meeting was over, with everyone having signed their name on a piece of parchment which Chris would bet good money was jinxed in some way to stop people betraying the group. As the group made to leave, Chris stopped, finally working out what the feeling was.

"Chris?" Luna questioned, turning back from the door to face him.

"Lunar I'll catch you later alright?" Chris said, "I got something that I need to do," he explained to her. Luna nodded, and wandered out of the Hog's Head, looking almost like she was dancing. He waited until the last few people who attended the meeting left, before walking up to the back of the bar, sitting at the tiny table in the darkest corner. He looked at the person who was already sitting at the table, a small hint of a smile playing about his face.

"Long time no see, Wyatt"

Wyatt leaned forward, his face coming into the dim light. "Indeed, little brother, it has been too long," he said, a small smile on his own face. Chris rolled his eyes,

"Wy, you can drop the formal ruler manner. It's just me and you here, no damn underlings who kiss up to you," he smirked, leaning back slightly in his seat, resting a foot on the table. Wyatt gave a small laugh.

"It is quite hard to just turn the formal manner on and off like a tap, Christopher," he said. Chris frowned.

"Nope, sorry, don't know any Christopher's," he said, looking up at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He couldn't, in actual fact, see the ceiling, but it was a good way of making Wyatt realise that he wasn't going to talk to him unless he address him in the right way.

Wyatt rolled his eyes, with a small laugh. "Alright, fine, _Chris_ , better?" He asked. Chris paused for a moment, before nodding and grinning. "I apologise for not writing lately, the vampires have been a little bit more of a problem than I had originally anticipated."

Chris looked over, "By any chance, you didn't happen to send Tommy did you?" Wyatt glared,.

"You may have the lion's share of the brains in the family Chris, but I am not a simpleton. Of course I didn't send Thomas," Wyatt gave a look of indignation. "He would have ruined the plans. I got there with them eventually, the Grand High Vampire granted me audience and agreed to turn his rule over to be. He simply has a figurehead position now."

"Grand High Vampire?" Chris questioned, slightly confused. "Though the vampires had a Queen?"

"No, after the incident with Aunt Paige they changed to having an magically elected ruler and a council," Wyatt explained. "And for the most part, the Grand High Vampire and the Vampiric Council do their jobs very well." Wyatt said, adjusting the sleeve on his shirt slightly. "It just happens that I am better."

"And oh so modest," Chris commented dryly.

Wyatt chose to ignore the comment, glancing momentarily outside. "So the students of Hogwarts are creating an army," he voiced quietly. "Should I be worried?" He asked, in a very casual tone.

"Of them?" Chris asked, "Nah. The only ones who could be a serious problem have already sworn loyalty to Tommy so they won't cause much of a problem," he shrugged. "Anyway, if you're looking for threats in this place, you might as well just look at me. I'm the biggest danger to you here."

Wyatt gave another soft laugh. "Of course brother, I need not worry." He continued to look out of the window, with slight interest in the village. "And, if it is not to prudent of me, who was that blonde you were with?" He asked.

"Oh Lunar," Chris answered. "Luna Lovegood, daughter of that dude who writes the Quibbler. What was his name, erm, Xenophilius I think it was." Chris could vaguely recall at point during the summer which he had to research Xenophilius, as what he was publishing in the Quibbler was scarily close to the truth of what Wyatt was doing, but his research proved that the man was just eccentric, and that people didn't believe what he published.

"You seemed to be very…chummy," Wyatt said. Chris frowned.

"We get on," he agreed, wondering what point Wyatt was trying to make. Wyatt looked away from the window, turning to look at Chris finally,

"It wouldn't be wise for you to get too friendly Chris," he warned. Chris sighed. This again. "You know that it is most likely that you will be leaving Hogwarts soon. Too many attachments are not good for you brother."

"I get it Wy, okay? I get it. It's just … " Chris paused, sighing again. "She just reminds me of Melinda," he admitted quietly. Wyatt shook his head.

"This again? Chris it has been nine years." Wyatt stated somewhat coldly. Chris looked up.

"She was our baby sister man, how the hell can you be so damn cold about it?" He accused, a slight glare directed towards his brother. Wyatt leaned back on his seat slightly, though still within the candle light.

"Needs must, brother," was Wyatt's reply. Chris frowned. "If I were to recall every single death in the family I would not get any work done. If I were to recall the family at all, you aside, my work would not get done. And my job calls for a clear head," Wyatt sighed. "You must start to do it to, if you are ever to rule at my side."

Chris stared down at the rough wooden table, having no reply to that statement. Wyatt looked at his brother for a moment or two, wondering just why Chris always seemed so reluctant to rule along side him. Surely it was a position which any right thinking person would have wanted? To show just how truly powerful they are.

"You sure Tommy's not more the type to be a ruler, he's more evil than me for one thing." Chris said. Wyatt shook his head,

"How many times do I have to tell you, Chris, it is not about good or evil," he said, looking tired of having to repeat the same thing over and over again. "It is only about power."

"And whoever has the most power wins," Chris muttered.

"Exactly," Wyatt said, looking down at his brother again. Chris' face was deep in thought, obviously considering over what he had said. He checked his watch. "I am afraid that I need to go now Chris, I have a meeting with the Goblin King in ten minutes, and he does not take kindly to people who are late." Wyatt stood, smoothing down his jacket slightly. "You will, of course, keep in contact?"

"Yeah, sure Wy, I'll write," Chris answered automatically.

"Good," Wyatt said. He paused a moment longer at the table. "And keep an eye on this new student army, will you?" He requested, before dark orbs enveloped him, and he left.

Chris left out a deep breath. "The way you talk Wy," he muttered sadly, "anyone would think you wanted our family dead," he finished, orbing out himself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you'll see in the upcoming chapter, dates have been changed to accommodate this story. As I stated back in the first chapter, this takes place during the golden trio's fifth year - 1995. As such, I've had to move dates back to make it make some sort of sense with the fic. Hope it doesn't confuse people too much! If you want it explained, ask and I'll try my best to explain it to you. A quick explanation is that, in this fic, Chris would have been born in 1979. Piper, being 31 when Chris was born, was born in 1948, and so on. Again, if you are confused just ask and I'll try my best to explain it all.
> 
> Sorry that this update took longer to come than chapter 13 did, but this particular chapter needed a lot of working before I was happy with it. My standard disclaimer applies, and I do need it for parts of this chapter, and as always I love reviews as they make me a happy little person.
> 
> And the show goes on...

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

 _All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are  
henceforth disbanded._

 _An organisation, society, team, group or club is herby defined  
as a regular meeting of three or more students_

 _Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor  
(Professor Umbridge)_

 _No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist  
without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor_

 _Any student found to have formed, or belong to, an organisation,  
society, team, group or club that has not been approved by  
the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Degree  
Number Twenty-four._

 _Signed: Delores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._

Chris stared at the notice on the notice board. "So, she knows then," he muttered softly. Behind him, he could hear the voices of Ron and Harry, discussing the notice themselves.

"This isn't a coincidence, she knows," Harry said. Chris rolled his eyes, leaning on the wall as he turned to face Harry and Ron

"Way to state the obvious boys, your powers of observation are second only to mine," he shook his head, pushing past the m as he made his way to the entrance hole of the common room.

"What the hell is your problem Halliwell?" Ron asked angrily, his face going as red as his hair as he glared at Chris. Harry glared at Chris as well, though he had not taken on the tomato complex that Ron had. "All you ever do is snipe!"

"My problem?" Chris gave moment's thought. "Your shoes. They don't match your tie," he shrugged, his usual smirk making its way on to his face with the greatest of ease, his sunglasses masking the amusement in his eyes.

"You little…"

"Ah, ah, Ronnie. What would your mommy say if she knew you were attacking a poor defenceless child," Chris faked pouted. Harry gave a loud snort.

"As if you're defenceless, Halliwell," he accused. Chris gave a wolfish grin.

"I'm as defenceless as the next student in this particular war," he pointed out, nodding towards the notice. "She's a slippery one, old Toadie," his eyes read over the notice once more. "Slippery and dangerous."

"Dangerous to who?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. There was a pause as Chris continued to look at the notice, lost in his thoughts. "Chris, dangerous to who?" Harry asked again, a hitch in his voice.

"To everyone," Chris answered in his dry tone, before orbing out of the room.

 **XXX**

Umbridge had taken to inspecting each of the classes, trying to deem whether or not the teachers of the school were up to Ministry standard. Chris thought this laughable as, until very recently, the Ministry didn't seem to have a standard when it came to the teachers in this school. After all, to date they had a teacher sharing head space with Voldemort; a foppish egotistical celebrity; surprisingly a highly competent werewolf - possible the best teacher they would get - and just last year, a Death Eater in disguise.

Chris had been hearing rumours of these inspections all day, having never actually seen one taking place. He wandered into his Potions class behind everyone else and missing the 'excitement' of Neville trying to attack Malfoy, to find Umbridge sitting in the dim corner of the dungeon. "You are late again Halliwell," Snape said, in his low sneering voice.

"I showed up didn't up?" Chris shot back, his reasonably good mood disappearing. "Trust me Snapey-poo, that's the most you can hope for with me," he called over his shoulder, wandering over to his seat. Umbridge gave a small tut, making a note on her clip board.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend - instructions on the board. Carry on," Snape instructed them. Chris looked over his potion, finding it to be coming along quite nicely. He wasn't particularly used to making Strengthening Solutions, having found no need for them, but he had ploughed through the instructions in his usual manner.

As he worked, he kept an eye on Umbridge out of the corner of his eye, a talent that he often found quite useful. She spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. He watched carefully as she got to her feet, and walked between to lines of desks towards Snape, who was wearing an expression of intense loathing. "Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level," Umbridge said briskly, speaking to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape turned to look at Umbridge, cold questioning on his face, not betraying a single thought. Chris had to give the man credit; he was perfect as a spy. Even if Chris doubted it was Voldemort that Snape was truly working for. He slightly hoped that Snape wasn't working for Voldemort, simply because he had a gut feeling that things would not work in his favour. Of course if that happened, it would also mean that things weren't working in Wyatt's favour, but Chris would deal with that particular bridge when he came to it.

"Now … how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked Snape, her quill, a rather disgusting shade of bright pink, poised over the clipboard. Snape's expression didn't change as he answered her.

"Fourteen years." Going by that, Snape had started here not long after the downfall of Voldemort the first time around. Briefly wondering what had caused Snape to become a teacher here, Chris began to listen in carefully, anxious for any information he could discover.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Umbridge asked, an expression on her face suggesting that she already knew the answer to this question, but wanted confirmation of it.

"Yes," was Snape's quiet answer.

"But you were unsuccessful?" Umbridge prodded. Chris mentally scoffed her interrogation technique. Stating the obvious only worked if you had something with the person you were interrogating wanted. As it stood, Umbridge has nothing of interest for Snape.

Snape's lip curled. "Obviously," he answered, causing Umbridge to scribble on her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" Chris frowned, stirring his potion slightly. Umbridge always did seem to twist the knife in the wound more than what was needed.

"Yes," Snape once again answered quietly, his lips barely moving. His calm expression was fading, giving way to his anger. Umbridge looked up at him

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"I suggest you ask him," Snape replied jerkily. Umbridge smiled sweetly up at Snape, causing Chris to feel momentarily sick.

"Oh, I shall," said Umbridge, her sweet smile sticking. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I suppose this is relevant," he asked, voicing the suspicions which Chris himself had been having. Umbridge's smile stuck, though a sinister element became attached. Or at least, Chris thought so

"Oh yes," she answered, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' - er - backgrounds." Umbridge smiled her sickly sweet smile once more, before turning to talk with a pug-faced girl, questioning her on the lessons. Chris looked up, catching hold of Snape's eye. There was a moment's pause, before Snape nodded, once and only a slight fraction, just enough for Chris and no one else to notice.

 **XXX**

As the class filed out of the dungeon, Umbridge had left five minutes before the bell rang, Chris stayed behind, leaning against the back wall, waiting for a time when he knew no student could over hear him. "'A thorough understanding of teachers' backgrounds'," he repeated softly. "What does she know about you Severus?"

Snape stood oddly still, as if preparing himself for a great mental battle. "It is no secret, my Lord, that during the first war I was a Death Eater," he said, speaking calmly, remembering that Chris was slightly easier to speak with than Lord Voldemort or the Source himself. "They would wish to find out my reasons for changing side," there was a pause before Snape continued, "as they well believe I have."

"And of course what they believe isn't true?" Chris asked, daring Snape to disagree with him. No such luck. The Potions Master gave a short bow, making the small action seem as if it had taken place in the throne room of some great monarch, than in a small dingy and dark school dungeon.

"But of course it isn't true my Lord, I declared loyalty to Lord Voldemort and the Source," Snape muttered quickly, repeating the line which he had spoken many times before. "I am a spy for your side, as it were," he added. Chris looked down at the ground. There was a silence, hanging awkwardly in the air.

Snape looked towards the young boy he, in effect, answered to. He had been shocked to see Lord Christopher show up at the school, having believed him to be past schooling age. When he had first met Chris, which had only been at the beginning of the summer, the Halliwell was covered in blood, having just fought his freedom from a group of demons - Snape didn't know which type exactly. At the time, he had seemed at least five years older than what he was, and Snape didn't feel as…awkward for taking orders from him. However, when he had turned up at the Sorting, and was then Sorted himself, it had confused him. For someone so young to have done so much. Snape was only thankful that he didn't think himself a martyr like Potter.

"My Lord," Snape began, causing Chris to look up. Snape paused once more, wondering how to voice what he wanted to say. "My Lord, the Source has contacted me, and he has concerns about you being here while Dolores Umbridge is a member of the teaching staff."

"Yeah, he'd have concerns," Chris muttered, returning his gaze to the stone floor. Snape paused yet again, frowning at a memory which had made its way to the front of his mind.

"My Lord, does this have something to do with the incident during summer?" He asked, causing Chris' head to snap up. Chris stared at Snape for a few moments longer, his eyes unblinking.

"It…just might," Chris settled on the vague answer, orbing out quickly.

 **XXX**

A few days later, Chris was approached by Luna and was informed that the 'proper' Defence lessons were still taking place, with the first one being that night, in a room known as the Room of Requirement. Laughing softly at some of the more adult uses the rooms name suggested, Chris made his way to Cole's office, to inform the demon that he wouldn't be attending that night's lesson.

Cole's office was, without a single doubt, the coolest office in the school, and having seen all of the teachers' offices Chris could confirm this claim. Cole had adorned the office walls with weapons and dark devices, and had two rather large book cases filled with books on demons, magical creatures, and on magic itself.

There was also a small tribute on the wall towards the Charmed Ones, namely a beautifully carved triquetra. Though over used, the symbol had been accepted by the entire magical community, be they good or evil, as the symbol of the Charmed Ones. It had become a matter of pride to be able to claim that a demon had been vanquished by the Charmed Ones, and those who lived always spoke of them with the greatest of respect. The students who knew of the story of the Charmed Ones always noted the meaning of the triquetra, though Cole had found that the more romantic of the students kept asking of his relationship with Phoebe

' _Phoebe…'_ Cole looked toward the only picture he kept on his desk, one which brought memories of happier times with it. There wasn't a day that went by in which he didn't regret the way that things had ended between them. If things hadn't went so wrong, he would be a father, and an uncle. Cole leaned back slightly in the chair. It was due to Phoebe that he was currently in Hogwarts in the first place. He remembered her appearance well, if only because it had shocked him so much…

'" _Phoebe?" Cole's voice echoed out, unsure of itself and reluctant to be any higher than it absolutely had to. He stared in shock at the petite brunette in front of him, hoping with a hope that had once seemed incapable for him to have, that she had not suffered the same as he had. "What are you doing here?"_

" _Cole," Phoebe's voice wavered, though whether it was with love or fear Cole couldn't tell. "I…we…" she trailed off, not sure of what it was she wanted to say. Cole stepped forward._

" _I didn't want this for you," he told her, waving a hand around vaguely. "To end up here." Phoebe looked up at him., and smiled. A sad smile but it was still a smile._

" _I'm not here Cole, I just got permission to come," she told him, turning to look out. Cole turned as well, watching the sad scene in front of him. Chris stood, soaked through by the heavy rain, in front of a newly dug grave. His shoulders heaved, and the boy was making no attempt to disguise the fact he was crying. A soft cry was uttered by Phoebe, her own heart feeling like it was breaking, seeing her nephew, whose heart probably was broken, so desperately alone at the side of the grave. The head stone was only just visible through the rain_

 _Victor Bennett  
16th January 1924 - 1st November 1994 _

_Husband. Father. Grandfather._

' _Honestly, I look back at those days as the best of my life'_

" _Daddy too?" Phoebe asked sadly. Obviously Victor hadn't appeared to them yet, if she was asking that question. Cole nodded, not taking his eyes off Chris, fearing what might happen if he did._

" _About two weeks ago," he said. "Demon attack, he jumped in front to protect Chris," he explained, turning to look at Phoebe. She looked out at her nephew sadly._

" _Poor Chrissy," she muttered sadly, wiping her eyes quickly, turning to look up at Cole. He smiled softly and sympathetic. "You watch him often?" she asked, forcing herself not to look at the sight again. Cole nodded briefly._

" _On and off, but more since…well, you know," he finished. There was a silence between the two, one which was thankfully comfortable. "I couldn't just leave him," he said softly, looking down at the ground._

" _Never figured you as a soft touch Cole," Phoebe said, her tone tinged with suspicions. Cole looked back up._

" _I have my moments," he smiled. Phoebe returned the smile, and Cole coughed slightly. "Not that I don't want to see you Phoebe, but if this isn't your fate, then why are you here?" he asked. Phoebe turned back to look at the figure of Chris, who was getting wetter by the second but who made no movement to leave._

" _He's all alone," Phoebe said, keeping her eyes on her nephew. "Wyatt's lost it, and we don't have much hope for Leo," Cole gave out a snort at the mention of Leo. Though he had once got on well with the whitelighter, and did consider him a friend, he didn't agree with his treatment of the younger Halliwell brother. Phoebe gave him a side look, and he fell silent. "He doesn't trust the Elders, and we didn't know who else to ask, who else we could…" she paused, turning to look up at Cole, "who else we could trust."_

 _Cole took this in, considering what it meant. He looked back out at Chris, noticing how small he look, and how young he seemed. Still only a kid… Phoebe continued chattering, wanting to explain it all. "You'll have the same powers as you had when you were alive, in effect you will be alive. It's been arranged that any record of you dying or going missing has been wiped and…"_

" _I'll watch out for him," he said, turning back to face Phoebe, stopping her in her tracks. "I promise," he added, seeing the moment of doubt in her eyes. Phoebe relaxed, a calm smile appearing on her face. She reached up, kissing Cole gently on the cheek._

" _Thank you," she said to him, before she was taken away in golden orbs. Cole sighed, closing his eyes and attempting once more to leave his limbo plane. This time he succeeded, reappearing in flames beside Chris. The boy in question didn't appear to notice his arrival, continuing to stare at the rain darkened stone, his own face filthy with a mix of dirt and tears._

" _Hey kid," Cole called softly, drawing his attention…'_

"Hello? Earth to Demon Dude, come in from the stars Cole, you're needed on the bridge," Chris drawled, clicking his fingers in front of Cole's face. Cole blinked, and frowned up at Chris, questioning his appearance in his office. "I'm hoping I didn't interrupt what was obviously a riveting piece of inner mind theatre, but I thought I'd better tell you. Tonight's lesson will not be featuring an appearance from me."

"And do I get a reason as to why not," Cole asked, looking at Chris with a tired expression. Chris smirked, picking up the photo and looking at it with a fond smile. "Chris?" Cole questioned again, watching the boy carefully.

"Homework," Chris explained, replacing the photo with care on the desk and leaving the office. Cole nodded once, looking back down at the photo. He paused, considering over what Chris had told him.

"Since when does Chris do homework?" he asked himself aloud. "I wonder what he's really up to…"

 **XXX**

At eight o' clock that evening, nearly every student who had been present in the Hogs Head, and some who hadn't, were all present in the Room of Requirement, waiting for the lesson to begin. Chris stood, rather bored, mentally noting that what they would learn in these 'meetings' would be useful, but would most likely be magic that he would never use. While the group squabbled amongst themselves on who should be their leader, unsurprisingly Wonder Boy was the first and only candidate, and the name, eventually chosen to be Dumbledore's Army or the 'DA' for short, Chris began to look at the books. Most of the books covered wand magic, though there were a few that Chris recognised from his schooling at Magic School, and from Wyatt's personal library. He took out a thick volume, entitled _'The Legacy of the Source'_ , and smirked dryly. He settled on the nearest cushion, and opened the book, beginning to read.

He was approached various times, by Hermione or Harry, he never looked up to see who it was, requesting that he take place in the practical activities. He always answered with same way, that he would rather read than do magic he wasn't used to, and it had worked for the majority of the evening, even though it had officially declared him as 'a bigger geek than Hermione' When another pair of feet came into his vision at the bottom of his book, he spoke before they could. "Listen, I already told you, I ain't doing your stupid little wand magic, and it'll be a cold day in hell before you can make me."

"Then Hell must currently be experiencing a terrible cold snap," came the deep voiced reply. Chris looked up from his book finally, coming straight into eye contact with Cole. He looked around the room with concealed amusement. "So this is the homework you just had to do," he commented dryly.

"Well what can I say, that homework's just gotta be done." Chris smirked, standing up and sliding his book back on to its self. Harry stepped forward, glaring at Chris.

"You utter sneak! You told!" he accused loudly, causing Chris to glare back. Cole looked down at Harry with a bored look on his face.

"Potter, I have been alive for the majority of this century, and for a good part of the last one," Cole informed Harry, and the room at large. "Do you think I honestly can't tell when a rebellion is starting?" Harry frowned slightly, obviously confused by Cole's statement. To be fair on Harry, it had confused the majority of the room, as they couldn't understand how Cole could have been alive for so long, but look to be in his forties at the most.

Hermione, however, had a bigger concern. She stepped forward, a nervous blush appearing on her face. "Please sir, are you going to report us?" she asked, worried for everyone in the room. Cole looked down at her with a stern expression. Chris laughed.

"Beautiful," he said, stepping forward and placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "He ain't gonna report you, he's gonna help," he stated, grinning slyly up at Cole. "After all, we wouldn't want anything to happen to the poor students here, and here's me, with untrained fire power…"

"You are a manipulative little boy, you do know that?" Cole said loudly, looking at Chris, still slightly amused. Chris smirked. Cole sighed, a small laugh issuing from his throat. "I'll claim that we've relocated our training lessons to this room, that'll provide some sort of alibi," he said. The students in the room all relaxed at once. Cole looked back towards Harry, who still looked angry at Chris. "And of course, adult supervision wouldn't hurt, considering the circumstances," he added thoughtfully.

"How right you are Demon Dude," Chris clapped Cole on the shoulder, the one which still had burn tissue, causing Cole to wince slightly. "Now, sorry to my fans, but I gotta split," he grinned slightly at Cole's questioning glance. "Got a lot of homework to do," he supplied, orbing out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, another really quick update from me. What can I say? I've been wanting to write this chapter for a while now, if only because it's different compared to the other chapters. I have tried by best to make it as...impact-y as possibly, so I hope I've succeded. Again I'm loving all the reviews I'm getting, as I have my supicions that they're what are making me stick with this story for so long. Well, reviews and the fact that this is mostly all planned out in my head and won't rest till I get it written down. And there is the matter of a fire powered Chris threatening me with burning unless I finish it. Don't you just hate it when your characters do that?
> 
> So yeah, hope that you like this chapter, and to all those who have been with this story since the beginning thank you. Hopefully you'll be able to see an improvement in the writing as the story goes on, and hopefully (I'm sayinging that a lot, I need a new word) you're still as interested in the story as you were at the beginning.
> 
> And off we jolly well go...

On the morning of the 10th November, Chris woke early. He lay still, glaring at the roof of his four poster bed, wishing that the day was over, though it had only just started. This date was never a good day, he couldn't remember a time when it had been even remotely good. For as long as he could remember, this particular date had brought nothing but misery. This was increased by the fact that it was now exactly two years since he had watched his mother die. The knowledge that she was Luna's whitelighter, and he was forbidden from seeing her, did nothing to help his hatred of this particular day. Today also marked two years since he lost the ability to heal, something which he did miss.

He rolled over to look out the window, seeing the remains of the snow and the frost on the glass pane. It looked like the sort of day that if you weren't wrapped up warmly, you'd freeze. "Now there's an idea," Chris muttered softly. "Wonder how long you'd need to freeze for before you'd die," he wondered out loud, still staring out of the window. As soon as he had voiced his wonder, he wished he could take it back. He had no wish to die, and refused to let any such thoughts enter his mind. He had a mission, and it was of the up most importance that he complete it.

He remained lying in the bed, listening as his dorm mates dressed and left to go down for breakfast. A few unkind mutters were thrown Chris' way, but he was used to them. His House didn't like him, and he didn't like his House., they simply were forced to put up with each other until such times as Chris left Hogwarts for good. Which didn't seem to be as soon as he had hoped, Dumbledore refused to expel him and Wy had expressed his wish for Chris to remain. It was at times like this that Chris would almost wish a visit from his father, at least then he could be guaranteed his removal from the school.

He turned over in the bed again, getting up when he noticed that he was the last person in the dorm room. Which was good as he didn't want to have to interact with anyone today. He moved slowly, picking up clothes from his trunk, all black in colour. Today was not a day to be wearing any other colour than black. He changed quickly, the grumbling of his stomach demanding that he make an appearance at breakfast, rather than escape to an unused room like he had planned too.

Today was not going to be a good day.

On his way into the Great Hall, Chris thought it louder than what it usually was. Everything seemed to be louder today, the one day when he didn't want to hear a single sound. He sat down at the Gryffindor table, causing people to move away as quickly as they could. There was a disturbing aura surrounding him, they would later claim, and it was nothing that they wanted to be involved in. Up at the staff table, Cole frowned slightly, wondering what was wrong. His eyes widened slightly as he remembered, a pang of pity towards the boy.

The owls began to arrive, causing Chris to look up. He still wasn't fond of this particular way of delivering mail, but he was slowly getting used to it. "Oh great," he groaned lightly, catching sight of the pure white owl that belonged to his father. "I really don't wanna hear it Leo," he muttered, knowing that somehow his father would hear him. He closed his eyes, allowing fire to gather in his hand, before standing up and throwing the fireball, perfect aim towards the owl.

There were loud screams in the Great Hall, screams of fear at Chris' actions, and screams as the fireball singed the owl's tail feathers, luckily it had done an abrupt about turn on seeing the fireball. Chris moved away from the table, storming out of the Hall, causing anyone in his path to scatter out of it as quickly as they could. Cole watched as Luna stood, fully prepared to go after Chris. He stood from the staff table, assuring the shocked members of staff that he would deal with Chris, and quickly made his way into the Entrance Hall, spotting Luna at the other end.

"Luna!" he called, walking up to her. The girl in question turned around and blinked, shocked for a teacher to call on her using her first name. It was normally her surname that was used, the same as every other student in the school. She frowned at Cole

"Sir?" she asked politely, still confused as the use of her first name. Cole came up and stood beside her, looking down the corridor which Chris had obviously made his escape down.

"Luna, I'd advise avoiding Chris today," he said, still looking down the corridor. "It's not exactly a good day for him," he explained somewhat vaguely, looking down at the Ravenclaw. Luna frowned, confused.

"But why?" she asked, hoping that Cole could clear up her confused. He sighed slightly, knowing how stupid his answer may sound.

"It's his birthday."

 **XXX**

Chris walked down the steps that led towards his Care of Magical Creatures class, his already bad mood growing. He didn't understand why he was actually going to class, but he felt it better to do something, _anything_ , other than just sit around. He didn't think he could handle remembering what had happened two years ago, it still hurt too much, and the image was still engrained in his mind. He struggled through the snow, following behind his classmates, making his way towards what had to be a giant, waiting for the class at the edge of the forest.

Chris stared at the man, Hagrid as he learned his name was. Hagrid did not give off the air of reassurance that Grubbly-Plank had. In fact, the man look slightly terrifying, with bruises tinged with green and yellow, and cuts which still seemed to be bleeding. To complete the rather ominous scene, Hagrid was carrying what had to be half of a dead cow over his shoulder.

"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily as the students approached him. Chris stared at the dark trees, the forest seemed more ominous in the day light than it ever had in the dark.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" he yelled, attracting Hagrid's attention. "You mean you want us to go into a dark forest, filled with different types of creatures, and possibly a couple of gnarly looking demons, just for a lesson?" he asked incredulously. Hagrid stared for a few moments then nodded. Chris shrugged. "Clarification. It's a beautiful thing." He began forward again, smirking at the look of fear across Malfoy's face.

The class walked into the forest behind Hagrid, very reluctantly. Chris wondered how it was that Hagrid could find his way so easily in such a dark forest. Personally he couldn't see all that well and kept tripping over his own feet, as did the majority of the class. After tripping up yet again, Chris growled lightly, and held his hand out flat. A small orb appeared, bright enough to allow him to set his way more clearly. He walked, slightly faster now that he had light, until he reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow on the ground at all.

When the class had gathered round, Hagrid turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and let out an odd, shrieking cry. The cry echoed through the dark tree reminiscent of some monstrous bird. Chris stepped back, watching all around him. He couldn't help it, when he heard a noise like the cry that Hagrid had let out, he immediately prepared himself for a fight.

Between two gnarled yew trees, a pair of blank, white shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom. A moment later the dragonish face, neck and then the skeletal body of a great, black winged horse emerged from the dark. It studied the class for what was only a few seconds but felt to Chris like an age, before bowing its head and tearing flesh from the dead cow. He watched with a morbid fancination, relief that he would finally find out what these creatures were. "Now … put yer hands up, who can see 'em?" Hagrid asked the class at large. Chris raised his hand, along with Harry. "Yeah … yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," Hagrid said seriously. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An' you…?" Hagrid paused, looking at Chris.

"Chris," Chris supplied, still staring at the creatures. "Chris Halliwell." Hagrid nodded sadly.

"Never been a Halliwell who couldn't see 'em," he said. "What wi' their life an' all, be a surprise if ye couldn't."

"Excuse me," Malfoy sneered, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?" Chris blinked, and looked around the class. Only about three, four including himself, could actually see these creatures, while the rest of the class looked confused. As an answer to Malfoy's question, Hagrid pointed towards the carcass on the ground, causing the whole class to stare at in silence for a few seconds. Several people then gasped, and some girls squealed, demanding to know what was doing it.

"Thestrals," Hagrid answered proudly. Chris' eyes widened in comprehension. Thestrals, he had heard of them once before, but had also heard them to be unlucky. Funnily enough, someone was raising that exact point, which Hagrid dismissed with a wave of his hand. "No, no, no, tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don't get…" Hagrid continued to explain about the school's herd of Thestrals, as Chris continued to watch the one nearest to him eating the flesh. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?" Hagrid asked. Hermione raised her hand, and Hagrid picked on her to answer.

"The only people who can see Thestrals," she began. Chris interrupted, looking up from the Thestral.

"Are those who have seen death," he said, causing Hermione to give him a shocked look. "Sorry Beautiful, but you ain't the only brain in the forest. I know a bit about magical creatures," he said, smirking unkindly at Hermione's shock.

" _Hem, hem,_ " the soft cough of Professor Umbridge signalled her arrival. She stood a few feet away from Harry and a few inches away from Chris. To the class' concealed amusement, Hagrid thought Umbridge's fake cough had come from the Thestral closest to him, and began peering at in concern. Umbridge coughed again, drawing Hagrid's attention. He looked up and greeted her warmly, causing Chris to roll his eyes. He slumped against a nearby tree, moving his hand to watch the orb change shape. "You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" Umbridge asked, using a loud, slow voice that would more commonly be used with small children. "Telling you I would be inspecting your lesson?" Chris' eyes narrowed at Umbridge's manner, remembering with a jolt that for all her airs and graces, she was a dirty dueller.

Hagrid explained, in a clear voice despite his heavy accent, that he was teaching the class about Thestrals. However, Umbridge acted as though she couldn't understand Hagrid, leading to him trying to act out what it was he was teaching the class. Which then led to Umbridge writing down a negative note on her little clipboard. Chris wondered briefly if it was possible for him to set fire to the clipboard without being noticed. This pattern continued for some time, Umbridge causing Hagrid to behave in a way that she could report negatively. It was when Umbridge announced that she was going to ask the students question (while acting it out in an attempt to make fun of Hagrid) that Chris remembered that she had a deep prejudice against half-breeds, and if he was anything, Hagrid was definately half giant.

"You evil little toad," Chris muttered, watching as Umbridge walked over to the group of Slytherins. "You evil little toad, it's so easy to work out what you're doing," he laughed dryly, yet softly so not to be overheard by anyone. "You're gonna get what's coming to you Toadie, and I'm gonna be the one to dish it out."

"You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" Umbridge asked Neville, who looked terrified at being asked a question. He nodded quickly in response. "Who did you see die?" she asked indifferently. Chris' eyes narrowed again, a fresh course of anger rushing through him.

"My … my grandad," Neville answered quietly, obviously saddened by the mention of his deceased grandfather. Chris could relate, it had only been a year since his grandpa had passed as well. And in Chris' opinion, there couldn't have been a more awesome grandpa anywhere in the world. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't miss him, that he didn't miss any of his family.

"And what do you think of them?" said Umbridge, waving her stubby hand at the horses. Neville glanced at Hagrid before answering.

"Erm," he said nervously, "well, they're … er … OK …"

" _Students … are … too … intimidated … to …admit … they … are … frightened_ ," Umbridge muttered, making yet another note on her clipboard. Neville looked upset at this.

"No! No, I'm not scared of them!" he insisted.

Umbridge smiled what she obviously saw as an understanding smile, though it looked to everyone else like a leer, at Neville, patting him on the shoulder. "It's quite all right," she said.

"But Nev's right," Chris spoke up loudly, moving forward and patting one of the Thestrals. "There's nothing to be scared of here," he announced loudly, smirking cruelly at Umbridge. The class fell silent, looking forward to what was sure to be another entertaining verbal battle between Chris and Umbridge.

"Halliwell, you can see the Thestrals too?" Umbridge question, keeping a stern eye on Chris. He nodded, continuing to pat the Thestrals. The skin was actually quite soft to the touch, almost silk like.

"I've seen enough death to allow me to," he remarked dryly. "Like teach said, be a surprise if a Halliwell couldn't see them." Umbridge sniffed loudly.

"Be that as it may, it does not give you the right to interrupt me," she stated, putting on her air of authority that she always adopted when dealing with Chris. And like all the times before, Chris ignored her attempts at assuming authority over him.

"It does when you go all out to report false and bias facts," he retorted, not bothering to look round at her. "I mean seriously, asking the Snakes about a class which obviously works better for the Lions?" Chris scoffed lightly. "And even then, not asking the kid who comes from America if he could understand the teacher," he said, "which, by the way, I can, and he's a helluva lot more understandable than you."

"Do you wish another detention Chris dear," said Umbridge in her sweet voice, which often signalled her anger. Chris looked over at her.

"Even if I did 'wish' another detention, my detention diary is booked solid, mostly by you," he added. "I couldn't get another one even if I wanted it." He stopped patting the Thestral and walked forward, making eye contact with Umbridge and taking on a low, somewhat dangerous, tone. "But don't worry, my dear toad, we'll be seeing each other." Chris' mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he orbed out of the forest, leaving it darker than it had been.

 **XXX**

Chris avoided the rest of his classes that day, instead opting to go straight into the Room of Requirement. On opening the door of the Room, it took on an appearance that was similar to the attic in the manor. Chris stared for a few minutes before moving quickly. Grabbing a golden bowl and a series on ingredients, he sat cross legged in front of the small table, mixing up the potion which he needed. He paused when he finished, closing his eyes and reciting the spells which he had memorised.

"In this night and in this hour, I call upon the ancient power, restore to me that which I seek, bring back my mother," Chris finished. He paused, and looked around himself. Just like the year before, and the year before that, his spell had no affect. He grabbed a nearby knife and, making a small cut in his finger, allowed his blood to drip into the bowl. "Blood to blood, I summon thee," he spoke clearly, a desperate hitch in his voice. "Blood to blood, return to me."

Again the spell had no effect. Chris groaned lightly. It wasn't as if he was asking for much, just to be allowed to see some one in his family on his birthday. Surely that was a reasonable request? He sighed, cutting his finger again and letting fresh blood dribble into the bowl. "Powers of the witches rise, course unseen across the skies, come to I who summons you near, come to me and settle here," he spoke loudly and clearing. This time he was prepared for the spell to have no effect. He didn't expect that one to do anything anyway.

He stood up, collecting crystals from a nearby shelf and placing them on the ground. When he was done, eh stood in front of the crystal circle and breathed deeply. "Here these words, here my cry, spirit from the other side, come to me, I summon thee, cross now the great divide," he intoned, hoping that just the once this spell would work. Nothing happened. Chris frowned. "Cross now the great divide," he said again, with no effect. Chris looked around the room, his eyes prickling slightly. He looked up at the ceiling. "Are you happy you bastards?" he yelled angrily. "Are you happy that I'm stuck here, alone? You always did have a sadistic streak!" he muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor. He stood for a bit longer, before sighed.

"All I wanted was to see someone," he muttered softly, orbing out of the room.

 **XXX**

Later the night, when all the students were asleep, there appear bright orbs up in the fifth year Gryffindor boys dorm room. "Should have known you'd show up sooner or later," Cole remarked, flaming in behind the orbs. "You just couldn't leave him alone could you?" There was no reply, and Cole watched as the figure approached a sleeping Chris. "He's missed you."

"I've missed him," Piper replied, her hand smoothing down Chris' hair. Chris shifted a little in his sleep at her touch, but didn't awaken. Piper smiled. "He's grown," she said softly, sitting down on the bed beside him. Cole nodded.

"He'll be tall," he remarked. Piper turned to look at him.

"You hang around in teenage boys dorm rooms often, Cole?" she asked, a faint humour filled smile playing on her face. Cole smiled at her.

"Had a feeling you might show up tonight, and what can I say? I wanted to talk to an old friend," he told her. Piper rolled her eyes, looking back down at her youngest son., still stroking his hair lightly. "He's coping, though I don't think that's what you want," Cole said softly, leaning against the wall and allowing Piper the time with her son.

"I've heard stories from Luna," Piper told Chris. "He's making a name for himself," she frowned, not quite sure how she felt about that. She looked back down at Chris, who was sleeping peacefully. "All alone, on his 16th, it wasn't supposed to be this way."

"When does it ever work out the way it's meant to be?" Cole asked. "You should know that by now Piper, fate likes to screw with your family," he said.

"Lovely way of putting it Cole, I can see how you won over juries," Piper remarked dryly, in a tone so familiar to Chris that Cole couldn't help but smile. They really were alike, son and mother. There was a silence, broken only by a loud snore coming from Ron. "She's grateful, we all are," Piper said, causing Cole's smile to become softer. There was another loud snore from Ron, making Piper look up slightly, noting the time on the clock. She sighed.

"I suppose I should go now," she said, sounding completely reluctant to leave. Cole nodded, leaving a small, well wrapped parcel on Chris' beside table. Piper's eyebrow rose, questioning him.

"Birthday present," Cole explained with a shrug, before flaming out of the room. Piper gave a small laugh, looking back down at her son.

"You may not like him all that much Peanut, but you have to admit, at least he remember," she said softly, stroking his hair once again. She leant over, and dropped a soft kiss on Chris' forehead. A small genuine smile crawled on to Chris' face. Piper smiled, leaving a small parcel of her own on top of Cole's present to Chris. She looked back at Chris once more. "Your family loves you Chris, remember that," she said softly, orbing out of the room.

As her orbs diminished, Chris sat straight up in the bed, having woken up abruptly. He looked around the dark dorm room, breathing heavily. He spotted the presents on the beside table but ignored them, continuing to look around the room in confusion.

"…Mom?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter felt like it took forever to write. Though it probably didn't. I do like writing this fic, even if at times the chapters don't particuarly want to be written. But we get there eventually. I'm glad to see that people like it, because, you know, that's every writer's goal isn't it? To have their worked liked? ... Okay so the truth is I always doubt my work and it takes five people yelling at me to convince me it's even the tiniest bit good. But meh, my neurosis is mine, though if you wanna share yours go right ahead. Neurotics united!
> 
> So, my standard disclaimer applies, and please review! I'm a review junkie, and each fix I get leads to the next chapter! So yeah, blackmail is a word that gets tossed around a lot these days...

The next morning, Chris all but ran down to Cole's office, pushing past numerous students who happened to be in his way, and even knocking some seventh years to the ground. He pushed open the door, and scowled at Cole who happened to be sitting calmly at his desk, reading some ancient demon text. Cole looked up, and frowned slightly. "Chris?"

"Did my mom visit me last night?" Chris demanded angrily. "And don't play any of your stupid games Cole, 'cause I am this close to pulling out the vanquishing potion," he threatened, fighting to keep his anger with the demon at a minimum, as he still didn't have a complete emotional control over his fire power yet. Cole placed his book down on the table, and leant back in his seat.

"You calmed down?" he asked casually. There was a pause and Chris nodded briefly. "What makes you think Piper visited you?" Cole asked, again keeping the casual tone in his voice. There was a silence, Chris looked down at the ground for a few moments before looking up.

"This," was his simple answer. He held out his right fist, letting a silver charm bracelet dangle from it. Cole stared, vaguely recognising the bracelet, and couldn't help but wonder why Piper had chosen to give her son this as a birthday gift.

"That was her favourite wasn't it?" He asked Chris, still looking at the bracelet but not touching it. Chris nodded, looking at it.

"We always though, me Wy and Mel," he clarified, "we always thought it was charmed or something. But no, it's just a plain old charm bracelet," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "That mom loved." Cole looked up at Chris, recognising the tone in his voice. Chris blinked furiously, and shook his head, clearing his throat. "The point is no one knew where this was kept except mom, so, it must have been her last night. It just…it must have been," he finished quietly. Cole looked up at him.

"You know I can't tell you Chris," he said, calmly leaning back in his seat and studying Chris lightly.. "The Elders always listen," Cole scowled slightly. He had never understood why Elders, supposedly paragons of pure goodness, would want to separate a family like this. Then again, when it came to the Charmed Ones, all they seemed to want was for them to vanquish evil. He supposed that the fact that Piper has refused to take their orders blindly was a good factor in the respect he had towards her. As that's what it was, he respected Piper, even though it wasn't mutual the majority of the times. "But, if only Piper knew where that bracelet was, well, haven't you already got your answer?"

Chris stared at the floor for a few minutes, a small nod directed towards Cole, accepting the vague answer he had been given. He turned to leave, pausing at the door, his hand on the handle of it. "Oh yeah, thanks. For the book," he added awkwardly, the words sounding strange and foreign on his tongue. Cole looked at Chris for a few moments, once again shocked at the sound of a thank you coming from the boy. Chris, still feeling slightly awkward, left the office in silence.

Outside the office, Chris leant against the closed door, his eyes closed and his head resting on the door. So his mom had been in the dorm the previous night, he hadn't been dreaming hearing her voice. It had been real. He sighed softly, slowly opening his eyes to the dim light of the school. He opened his fist, the silver of the bracelet glinting slightly in the light. He stared for a few moments, before pulling up his right sleeve, He quickly clipped the bracelet on and re-covered his arm.

"Little kiddelets should be sneakies 'round teacher's room. Naughty little kiddelet," a voice crowed at Chris, who frowned slightly. "Methinks he took something, kiddelet with sticky fingers," the voice cackled. Chris' frown gave way to a smirk, looking around for the source of the voice. A ghostly figure went gliding through the walls, cackling all the way. Chris watched, timing the movements of the figure, and held his hand up slightly, counting under his breath.

"1 … 2 … and freeze," he said, a quick hand motion freezing the creature in mid air. Chris smirked up at it, moving his hand yet again to unfreeze only the creature's head. "You'd be the resident poltergeist, correct?" he asked, looking up at the poltergeist.

"Peeves is my name and no kiddelet spell will hold me," he threatened, trying to move out of the freezing. Chris watched Peeves' head struggle, while the rest of his body remain still, trying not to laugh.

"You finished acting like a fish?" Chris asked when Peeves' head stopped moving, and nodded once. Chris smirked yet again. "Good to hear. Now, in case you haven't heard, I'm Chris Halliwell, current hero of the greatest pranksters of the school," this got Peeves' attention, as he turned to stare at Chris with a slight look of awe. "Oh so you have heard of me, good to know," Chris laughed softly. He looked around him, making sure that no one was listening into the conversation. When Chris was satisfied that no one was listening, he leaned in towards Peeves. "Listen, Peeves my friend, I have a problem with a teacher in this school, and I think you're just the guy to help me," he smirked, Peeves slowly beginning to smirk along with him.

 **XXX**

December arrived, and its arrival brought more snow than Chris had previously thought possible. December also brought an increase in the amount of homework which the fifth-years were given, the majority of which was used as targets during Chris' lessons with Cole. Chris had added to the workload of the teachers and the prefect's by stepping up his mayhem efforts. Of course, none of the 'tricks' could be pinned on Chris, as everyone swore blind that Peeves had done them, and it was widely known by all that Peeves did not listen to any student in the school.

Chris had found himself restless in the time coming up to the holidays, and was in the type of mood that he would welcome a demon battle, if just to break the boredom that he was feeling. Oddly, no such attack happened, leading Chris to wonder about the protection that the building of Hogwarts itself, and just what enchantments were on it to keep it safe and to keep it hidden. This had lead him to the school library, to his delight. He may have detested actually doing schoolwork, but Chris loved to read. It was from that point on that he chose to make the library his spot to relax in, especially since he had found a corner which no one seemed to go into, allowing him the privacy he preferred. From his 'studies' he discovered that the protection surrounding Hogwarts had been in place since the school's first year, each head teacher adding to it as they went along. And since Dumbledore was rumoured to be the most powerful headmaster Hogwarts had seen since the days of the founders themselves, Chris suspected that for someone to break through the protection barriers as they stood now, would be nearly impossible,

Or perhaps, as he often like stating to Wyatt, 'just a bit unlikely'.

As the term neared it's break, the DA meetings became more frequent, to compensate for the fact that they would have to stop over the holiday period, as nearly everyone in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Despite it all, Chris couldn't help but be the tiniest bit bitter at this. He didn't have any family to spend the holidays with, as Wyatt had refused to celebrate the holiday, claiming it only for those stuck in the old good versus evil morass. Chris noted glumly that Wyatt used that as an excuse to get out of a lot of things that didn't involve hurting someone or something. He had an open invitation at Grimmauld Place, which he suspected he would end up using. After doing what he had to do, of course.

On the final DA meeting before the holidays, Chris was one of the last to arrive, even arriving later than Luna, which in itself was deeply unusual as Luna and Chris were always together coming to these meetings, it was often commented how Chris seemed to act as a bodyguard to Luna; which he was. He felt that if he could keep her from danger, then he wouldn't run the risk of meeting his mother. Although he did want to see her again, he was unsure that he would be able to let her go if he did.

Cole frowned at Chris' late entrance, wondering just what the boy had been up to. Chris was out of breath, having had to run after his orbs been scatter to the other end of the castle. Every time he had tried to orb straight into the Room of Requirement it had expelled him, as though it didn't trust him to let him in. This was the first time that it had happened and it had caused Chris to be deeply confused. He paused over at the bookshelf, shivering as an unpleasant feeling shot up his spine. He shook his head, trying to ignore the feeling as he slipped a book out of the shelf, _'Vampires: Fact From Fiction'_ , and settled on his usual cushion, beginning to read.

After a while, unable to control his curiosity, Cole made his way through the practising pairs towards Chris, biting his lip slightly to keep himself from laughing. It was just such an odd image, to see Chris curled up, nose stuck in a book, and mouth closed. "I suppose you figured out the vampire world isn't exactly as Bram Stoker has described it," he commented lightly, nodding towards the book. Chris didn't even look up.

"Knew that years ago," he muttered, turning a page in his book, "after all, Dracula's alive and well," he said, looking up and Cole, "and has kids." Cole gave Chris a look, not entirely sure if he was joking or not. It became hard to tell after a while with Chris. "What do you want Cole?" he asked, closing his book over slightly, keeping a mark of what page he was on.

"Just to know why you were so late,'" Cole shrugged lightly. "Call it curiosity," he explained on seeing Chris' confused expression.

Chris looked back down at the cover of the book, trying to think of a way to explain what had happened to him. "The Room wouldn't let me orb directly in here," he settled on. "It kept sending me to the other side of the castle," he said, scratching the back of his hand slightly. "That's the first time the Room has ever done that to me," he said, looking back up at Cole, a confused expression still on his face. "And there's this … this feeling," he admitted, looking around the room as if trying to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from. "Something's coming," he said, looking back up at Cole, "and it's coming soon."

"What?" Cole asked, looking down at Chris, concern flooding him due purely to the shadow of fear he could have sworn passed over Chris' face just as he spoke. He had never seen Chris scared before, and though he could have been mistaken, he didn't want to risk it. "Chris, what's coming?"

There was a pause as Chris re opened his book, finding the paragraph he had been on. He looked back up at Cole, having found the words to describe what it was that was coming. "An explosion," he said simply, looking back down at his book. "An explosion is coming."

 **XXX**

That night, as the others in his dorm room slept, Chris sat up, staring out of the window restlessly. It wasn't the first time that he had done this, though it was the first time that he had studied the dark grounds of Hogwarts with such intensity. He could still feel the odd feeling that he had felt in the Room of Requirement, and it had made him wary. He was used to getting odd feelings, after all he was part whitelighter, but there was something sneaky about this one that had caused him to be wary.

Even then, he had his suspicions. It had been too quiet on both sides lately, nothing from the Order, but nothing from Wyatt either. He had to be planning something, him and Voldemort, they had to be planning something big. And, knowing Voldemort's fixation on him, Wonder Boy was likely to be right at the very centre of it. Of course, Chris wouldn't be privy to any of this information. He never was privy to any of Voldemort's secret plans, after all, the man made no secret of the fact that he didn't like Chris. To be fair, Chris didn't like him either, but he just happened to use his dislike to annoy Voldemort.

He didn't think it would take him long to work out exactly what it was that Voldemort was planning

Turning away from the window, Chris saw Harry thrashing around in his bed, muttering loudly, though nothing he was saying was understandable. Chris stood up from the window still he had been sitting on, moving over to the side of Harry's bed. The others in the dorm had also been woken by Harry's thrashing, though only Ron had been brave enough to venture anywhere near him. "Harry! Harry!" he called, shaking Harry as he thrashed.

"Oi, Wonder Boy, wake up or I flame ya," Chris tried, pushing Harry in his shoulder. As his hand came into contact with Harry's shoulder, Chris gave an inaudible gasp, his eyes fluttering closed for a second, visions hitting him quickly. He could see…

"… _.I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"_

" _Yeah, it did," said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done … think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"_

Chris' eyes shot open as the visions left him, and still lightly shaking Harry's shoulder. Ron frowned, wondering why Chris would be helping, but only for a moment. He kept his eye on Harry, continuing to shake him in an effort to wake him. "Harry! HARRY!" he yelled, being successful in his attempt to wake up Harry this time. Harry opened his eyes and clutched at his head, his hands clawing into his hair, rolling over and vomiting over the side of the mattress. Chris jumped back slightly.

"He's really ill, should we call someone?" Neville asked in a scared voice. Chris rolled his eyes.

"Oh I dunno, he just threw up over the side of his bed," he said lightly, "of course you should fuckin' call someone Longbottom!" he snapped, growling slightly on the last word. "What did you see?" He asked Harry, pulling him back up into a sitting position, staring him right in the eyes. "Wonder Boy what did you see?" he demanded, keeping a tight grip on Harry, forcing him to stay upright.

Harry took great gulps of airing, gripping on to Chris' arm that was holding him upright, turning his head to face Ron. "Your dad," he panted, gulping down more air, "your dad's … been attacked …." Chris' head whipped round to face Ron immediately, before turning back to face Harry. If Arthur had been attacked, it was while on duty for the Order. "Your dad!" Harry continued, ""He's been bitten, its serious, there was blood everywhere …"

"I'm going for help," Neville piped up, in the same scared tone, before running out of the dormitory.

"It wasn't a dream … not an ordinary dream … I was there. I saw it … I _did_ it …" Harry was rambling, and Dean and Seamus had started to mutter loudly in the background. Chris gave a soft groan of annoyance before turning to face them.

"Gentlemen," he said in his politest tone of voice, "while I'm sure we'd all be delighted to hear your half cocked theories, in case you haven't noticed this ain't exactly a water cooler moment. Now, you can either shut the fuck up, or leave the room," he finished. "Or I burn you," he threatened, holding up a hand filled with flame. Dean and Seamus glared as they made to leave the room, only being stopped by Professor McGonagall. "Went right for the big guns, good choice Nev," Chris commented lightly, pulling on Harry as he began to droop yet again. Harry ranted at her, telling her his dream, insisting that it was real.

"I'm not lying and I'm not mad," he yelled at her, his voice sounding sore. "I tell you, I saw it happen!" Professor McGonagall regarded him calmly.

"I believe you Potter. Put on your dressing gown - we're going to see the Headmaster."

 **XXX**

It took Chris, Ron and Craig to hold Harry up as they padded along the corridor towards the Headmaster's office, which was no easy task as Harry still looked ready to throw up. Chris had offered to orb him directly into the office, but it had been decided that perhaps, in Harry's current state, that orbing was not the best mode of transport to take.

When they entered his office, Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk, wide awake though dressed, seemingly, for bed. The three deposited Harry in one of the chairs in front of the desk and hung back, listening as Harry explained his dream to Dumbledore. "How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked finally, in a quiet voice, not meeting eye contact with Harry.

"Well … I don't know," Harry answered. "Inside my head, I suppose - " There was an angry tone to Harry's voice, and for once, Chris didn't blame him. Dumbledore was being deliberately slow about this, as if he knew exactly how Harry had seen this. Actually, Chris would put money on it that Dumbledore did know.

"You misunderstand me," Dumbledore interrupted Harry in the same quiet tone. "I mean … can you remember - er - where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

There was short pause in which Harry gaped in shocked at Dumbledore. "I was the snake," he answered finally, "I saw it all from the snake's point of view." Having got the answer he wanted Dumbledore flew into action, sending two portraits to check on Arthur, and sending McGonagall to fetch the rest of the Weasley children. Craig accompanied her back to the Gryffindor dorm room, thinking it best that he didn't intrude upon someone else's grief, but Chris remained, sitting in the office and thinking. Harry had seen everything from the snake's point of view. He had heard of something like this happening before but he couldn't place it.

He looked up from his thoughts as Dumbledore swooped down upon a fragile silver instrument sitting on his desk. Dumbledore tapped the instrument once with his wand and it instantly tinkled into life, making rhythmic clinking noise. After a few minutes, a steady stream of smoke from the instrument thickened and coiled in the air, taking the form of a serpent. "Naturally, naturally," he muttered softly. "But in essence divided?" The smoke serpent split in two, causing Chris to frown and think of what it could mean. The most logical explanation was that someone was possessing the serpent, manipulating its actions. If that was the case, then in essence divided could mean that… Chris' head snapped up again, staring over at Harry. Wonder Boy had no idea, and if he didn't work it out soon everyone was in danger.

At the return of the two portraits Dumbledore marched over to the portrait known as Phineas, and requested that he inform Sirius to expect the Weasley's, Harry and Chris in his company shortly. Chris rolled his eyes at portrait making complaints. He was an enchanted portrait bound to obey the orders of the headmaster of Hogwarts. He didn't have a choice in what he did. The Weasley's all piled into the office, tired and confused. Chris nodded a greeting to Fred and George, who frowned when they saw him and Harry sitting in the office. The youngest Weasley, Chris vaguely recalled her name as being Ginny, tried to find out from Harry what had happened, but Dumbledore had interrupted. Chris frowned at this, surely getting Harry to explain wasn't all that bad. It wasn't as if the other knew about the connection yet.

After a few moments, which included a warning from Fawkes, Dumbledore sent Harry and the Weasley's on their way, turning to look at Chris who remained sitting in his chair, staring over at the fire. "What do you think, Chris?" he asked him as casually as he could manage. Chris shrugged lightly.

"Obviously someone was possessing the snake, it's too random to have just been there by chance," he said, not looking away from the fire. "Of course, whether or not this person knows about the connection I suspects Wonder Boy shares with him is another thing entirely." Chris clicked his tongue against his teeth in thought. "I'd need to check some stuff out, but I think the answer's obvious at this stage in the game, don't you Gandalf?"

Dumbledore stared at Chris, wondering just what it was that the boy knew. "Perhaps," he answered vaguely. Chris looked round at him.

"Oh more than perhaps old man," he answered, an odd flicker in his. "Always more than perhaps," he muttered, looking back at the fire, his mind mulling over all he had seen that night. There came the sounds of footsteps at the bottom of the stair way into Dumbledore's office. "We've got visitors," he commented lightly.

"I think, perhaps, it is time for you to go," Dumbledore suggested lightly. Chris nodded. He turned back to face Dumbledore, speaking to him as he orbed away.

"An explosion's coming, you know?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter 17 for all you nice people who have been sitting and waiting. This is being one of these annoying to write chapters. Mostly cause it kept running away from me whenever I tried to write it. And 'cause I've been living in the land of the non sleeping. The land of the non sleeping is not a fun place to be and I recommend it to no one. But yeah, chapter 17 finally. My standard disclaimer applies, as always, and I hope you enjoy!

Unlike the others, Chris didn't return to Grimmauld Place. Oh he knew he would have to, eventually, but it was getting near Christmas, and he had miles to go before he could rest. He orbed directly to someplace he had thought that he would never return to, never be allowed to return to. He stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the building with a strange feeling burning in his chest. His fingers dug into his pocket, closing around the cold metal key that hadn't been used in at least a year. He pulled out the key, staring at it for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. "Too damn sentimental, that's my problem," he muttered lightly, starting up the stairs towards the manor.

The squeaking of the door echoed loudly in the silent manor, and Chris winced at the noise. Oh the manor may be safe, for some reason it had proven impossible for Wyatt and his 'little playmates' to take over the place. Whenever they had tried the doors were sealed to them, and only reopened for Chris. He sighed, beginning to close the door behind him only to have it stopped by a foot. "Had a feeling I might find you here," Cole said softly, looking around at the manor, "though, I'll admit, I did think that your darling brother would have taken this place over by now."

"He's tried, he's failed, and I bought him a lovely t-shirt saying so for his birthday," Chris said, opening the door to allow Cole in, shutting it behind him. He walked into his home, and couldn't help but imagine what things could have been like if everything hadn't gone so wrong. "He can't get in but you can?" Cole's voice held a tone of surprise, and with good reasoning too. If the manor had magically sealed itself, then in theory Wyatt should be the one of the two brothers able to gain entry without problem. Chris shrugged.

"What I said isn't it?" he said, jumping over the back of one of the seats to sit in it. He frowned, considering the situation.

"Maybe you still have that one spark of goodness left in you Chris," Cole mused out loud. Chris gave no reaction to this, continuing to stare into space. For Cole, Chris' non response was a response, and his theories about exactly what it was the kid was planning to do deepened. Without warning, Chris stood up from his seat and moved towards the stairs, remaining silent. "Chris?" Cole questioned, to no effect. He followed Chris up the stairs, finding the boy in his own room.

"Can't a guy get some privacy in his own home?" Chris snapped, waving his hand and causing the door to slam close. Cole sighed, and moved to go back downstairs. He knew from experience that when Chris was in a mood, it was nearly impossible to get him to see any sort of reason whatsoever. And, if he was being perfectly honest, Cole had no desire to end up on fire. That was the one drawback of teaching Chris how to use his power properly - he knew how to use it against people

 **XXX**

Chris lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in his room. He had originally meant to orb back to his Grandpa's place, but had remembered on the way there that it had been sold. So to the Manor he headed. He had avoided coming back here as often as he could, thinking that his home felt too big without his family all being there. Hell, even the occasional demon flaming in would be welcome if it meant company. He looked around his room, vaguely noting that all the efforts he had put in to making it look 'cool' and a proper 'teen' room seemed wasted now. Posters advertising different bands hung at angles on the walls, bookshelves filled with different books and comics ran along one wall, while his bed ran along the other.

He got up, walking over to pick up a comic from one of the shelves, looking down at the bright coloured paper with little interest. He threw the comic back on the shelf, sighing before throwing himself back on to his bed. "When the hell did I let stuff get to me," he asked himself, groaning slightly with frustration. It was true, however much he tried to fight against it. Since he had started at Hogwarts, stuff was affecting him more than it should have done, or would have previously done. "I'm getting soft," he said, punching his pillow in an effort to get rid of some of his frustration. He eventually threw the pillow across the room, smirking when hearing it thud heavily on the ground.

He moved so that he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, Cole's words from earlier roaming inside his mind. _'Maybe you still have that one spark of goodness left in you,'_ Chris sneered. Of course he had some goodness left in him, his orbs wouldn't be light blue/white if he didn't. That is, when he didn't choose to manipulate them to appear like dark lighter orbs, something which was deeply painful, but Chris did anyway. It was the one of the ways he stayed safe when in the company of various different demons and warlocks. It also meant he could have some form of light when down in the dark underworld. Chris shuddered slightly. He _really_ didn't like the dark.

"Chris?" a soft knock came on the door, "Chris, I don't know if you're talking tonight, but there's food downstairs if you're hungry," Cole said. Chris remain still, waiting until he heard Cole move away from the door. Gotta give the demon something for trying, but Chris was in no way looking for a father figure, he didn't want one, he didn't need one. He'd done fine without one so far. He jumped back up on to his bed, closing his eyes to go to sleep. Everything would seem better when he woke up.

 **XXX**

The loud crashing coming from downstairs woke Chris up sharply . He sat up in the bed, listening carefully, hearing Cole yell angrily at whoever it was who had entered the manor. He groaned slightly, he had hoped for a peaceful holiday for once, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, sitting for a few minutes before standing up and going downstairs.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I didn't plan for a party, but hey, no one cares what I think right," he called loudly, leaning against the banister with a look of utter boredom clear to all on his face. "So who is our gatecrasher and why have they not been shown the door yet?"

"And there he is, the young Prince himself," the mocking tone made Chris frown deeply.

"I thought you couldn't get in here, none of Wy's … " he stopped mid sentence, realizing with a small jolt. "So when did you leave his company?"

"Oh, less than a month back," Barbas said, smiling his sickly smile. "The King and I did not see eye to eye as it were," he continued, sitting down on one of the free seats, leaving Cole looking deeply confused. He turned to Chris, frowning slightly.

"Friend of yours?" he asked dryly. Chris shrugged.

"I've already seen my greatest fear come true," he said in an unemotional tone, "so Barbas has nothing to use over me," he finished, shrugging lightly. Barbas nodded, agreeing that this was the case. Cole nodded slightly, accepting the answer with little difficulty, before frowning again.

"Hang on … weren't you vanquished?" he asked Barbas.

"Weren't you?" was the response. Cole rolled his eyes, glaring at Barbas for further explanation. "Fear always goes back, it never truly goes away," Barbas explained, "the dear sisters did not realise that."

"What do you want Barbas?" Chris asked, his tone suddenly severe. His family always was a trigger point with him, as Cole had discovered in many of their training sessions. "Or are you here to hide?" a slow, calculating look came on Chris' face. "You betrayed him didn't you?" There was a slight awe in Chris' tone, as though amazed that anyone would dare betray his brother.

"Betray is such an ugly word," Barbas said, "King simply didn't like the truth he was being told," he added, inspecting his nail with such calm that Cole forgot for a moment that it was in fact the demon of fear that they were speaking to. "Especially when it came to Prince," he smirked over at Chris. Cole frowned, once again missing something in the conversation.

"I get why you refer to him as King," Cole said, careful not to mention names for the sake of Chris' temper, "but why call Chris a prince?" he asked the fear demon, who looked up at Cole as if he were the most idiotic being on the planet.

"He is to take over, the next in line," Barbas said slowly, filling the idea that he believe Cole to be incredibly stupid. Cole glared at him for this, remembering very clearly that he never did like Barbas, before turning to Chris for a better explanation. Chris sighed.

"The genius over there has got it into his head that since Wy can use Excalibur, I can too," he muttered, "but genius has forgotten that Excalibur can only be used by the most powerful being, and will corrupt any others that use it," he finished, sitting down on the stairs, rubbing at his eyes slightly. "And yes, while I already am corrupted too much to be further corrupted, I ain't risking it," he said, a smary look on his face.

"More to it than power," Barbas said, "you think goodie, goodie Arthur had power?" he gave a low laugh. "You have no idea, dear Prince," he insisted. Cole remained quiet, unwilling to admit that maybe, just maybe, Barbas had a point.

"Whatever," Chris sighed, choosing to look over Barbas head, out of the window, "if you haven't got anything worthwhile to tell me Fear Demon, I suggest leaving before things heat up," he grinned dangerously here, and Cole found himself wishing that he hadn't taught Chris how to rapidly throw fireballs.

"He fears it you know," Barbas said, causing Chris to actually look at him. "The King fears the Prince," he repeated, titling his head slightly to look at Chris.

"What do you mean?" Chris asked, frowning at Barbas. "What does Wy have to fear from me?" he asked, "I'm … I'm not going to do anything," he said, confused at Barbas' statement, and feeling as though he were being interrogated. "Wy doesn't need to fear me."

"The Prince shines oh so bright, and his fears feed his determination," Barbas smiled, waving his hand in a vague manner. A shiver ran down Chris' spine, mentally kicking himself for not realising earlier, when he saw the stamp on Barbas' hand. The stamp of Wy's prisoners. Cole's eyes widened as he slowly realised as well.

Barbas had been tortured. And had become insane from it.

"What the hell did they do," Chris muttered softly, still staring at the stamp on the back of Barbas' hand. He closed his eyes, remembering Wyatt's words from their meeting only a few months before. "Whoever has the most power wins," he muttered, turning to Cole. "Barbas was a threat, Wy eliminated the threat." Cole turned away from Chris, away from Barbas, walking into the kitchen and closing the door behind him. Chris stood up, going over to the insane demon of fear. It was true that Barbas was never exactly what you could call sane before, but there wasn't even a glimpse of his usual intelligence left.

"The Prince shall overthrow the King in the end," Barbas said, still smiling at Chris, "it's always the way." Chris smiled weakly back at the demon.

"Yeah, overthrowing the King," he repeated softly, "I'll get right on that." He looked at Barbas, before looking around the room, for once stuck at what he should do. "Erm … " he began, biting on his bottom lip nervously.

"And now the Prince begs my departure, how rude of Princey," Barbas said, before standing up, "but go I must. People to see, and fear to feast on," he said. Chris smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Barbas looked down at him, and for one moment, he was back to his old sane self. "He really does fear you, you know," he told Chris with utter sincerity, before teleporting out.

 **XXX**

A few hours later Chris had returned to his room and was sleeping as peacefully as was possible for him. Cole remained sitting in the living room of the manor, staring into space and thinking over what he had seen. Barbas was one of the strongest demons out there, and Wyatt had driven him utterly insane and, from the look on Chris' face, it might not have been the first time something like that had happened. Death was considering too easy, even merciful down in the Underworld, but to turn someone completely insane was a level that most demons refused to sink to. Apparently Wyatt was even more sadistic than he had previously thought.

The soft ticking of the clock was the only noise to be heard , when the bright light of orbing entered the room. Cole sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What the hell do you want Leo?" he asked, without look up.

"This is still my home Cole, and I have a right to be here," Leo responded, glaring down at the man with a type of righteous anger only he could achieve. "Where is he?" he asked, looking around the room casually.

" _Chris_ ," Cole said pointedly, "is upstairs trying to get some sleep. And considering he can't even remember the last time he got a full night's sleep, I wouldn't advise waking him," he finished, watching Leo carefully. "And how different, you willingly coming to see your youngest? I'm impressed Leo, maybe you aren't such an ass after all," Cole said, in an casual tone.

"What can I say? It's Christmas," Leo replied flippantly. "I want a word with him anyway, about the way he's been acting, associating with," he turned to look at Cole with slight disgust, "demons. Not exactly behaviour his mother would approve of." Cole laughed.

"Funny, Piper's fine with it," he told Leo, who sighed tiredly.

"Cole, I appreciate you trying, really I do," Leo said, in his sincere way. If there was one thing Cole had to give the whitelighter credit for, it was that he was always sincere. "But this is Chris, he's … he's a hopeless case," he finished shrugging his shoulders lightly. "Wyatt might have lost his way, but he'll come but. There's no hope for Chris."

Cole stared at Leo, knowing that the man completely believed what he had just said. And once again, he couldn't help but hate Leo for it. The man simply didn't care about Chris. He had time for Wyatt, for the sisters, for the world and then some, but when it came to Chris, he was no where to be found. He gave out a sound that was half way between a tut and a sigh and shook his head. "You know that's not true," he said to Leo.

"Yes it is," Leo replied. "Cole, I know you can't help but try, we all know about your promise to Phoebe," Cole gave a tired smile at this, of course they would know. It was in their nature to pry into affairs that weren't theirs to deal with. "But we know that Chris is a hopeless case. He's too way gone to be saved," there was a tone in Leo's voice, and if Cole didn't know better, he could have sworn it was one of sadness.

"Then why the hell are you even here?" The sound of Chris' voice caused both Cole and Leo to turn to face the stairs. The teen was standing, suddenly looking smaller than he had previously now that he was in his father's presence. "If I'm such a hopeless case why the hell do you even bother to show up?"

"I'm still your father," Leo told him, though he didn't exactly sound pleased about it. Chris gave a bitter laugh.

"An accident of genetics doesn't make you a dad, _Leo_ ," he sneered. "If I had a choice in the matter, we wouldn't be related," he said, giving out another bitter laugh. "Hell, I'd rather have demon dude as my father than I would you," he told Leo, gesturing towards Cole with anger in his eyes. Leo glared deeply, not showing if the comment hurt or not. Father and son glared at each other, both with equal anger.

"Christopher," Leo began, his teeth clenched and his tone forced.

"CHRIS!" Chris angrily interjected. "It's Chris, not Christopher," he said, still glaring at Leo. "And I don't want to hear it Leo," he said, holding up his hand to stop anything that Leo might say. "Call it teenage rebellion, but I don't give a damn about anything _you've_ got to say."

"Chris, you have to stop this," Leo said, moving forward. "You're being unreasonable," he told the teen. "No, worse than that, you're acting like a spoiled child," he spat. "Grow up, and act like you have some respect towards your family name," Leo said, his anger controlling his words. "You should have never left your brother, he could help you … "

"Wyatt's more lost than I am!" Chris said softly, breathing heavily. "Seriously, Leo, get out of my house now."

"You can't tell me what to …." Leo began, before Cole interrupted him.

"Leo, I'd just go," he advised the whitelighter. Leo didn't listen.

"I don't need to leave," he insisted, "this is still my home, not just his." Chris had closed his eyes, and it was obvious to anyone who cared to pay attention that his anger was rising greatly.

"JUST GO!" He roared, holding his hands up and let fire fly from them towards Leo. To his credit, Leo noticed the fire flying towards him and his eyes widened, orbing out immediately. The fire dissapear on contact with the orbs, and Chris lowered his hands, breathing heavily. Cole watched the teen carefully.

"Are you okay?" he asked, keeping a safe distance from Chris in case he snapped again. Chris turned to Cole, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and, as Cole was surprised to see, deep hurt.

"I hate that man."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have chapter 18, rather appropriate as this is the chapter nearest my 18th birthday (14th of August for anyone who might be wondering). So, my standard disclaimer applies.. Oh yeah, something mentioned later in this chapter was a previous fic idea I had. It may get written one day, but that day is not today. I'll explain it if you ask in a review. I also apologise if this chapter seems a bit on the short side, I had planned to make it longer but I split the idea into two chapters. And part two, so to speak, won't be written till after my holiday, so you're going to have to wait a few weeks. Sorry! So…erm… yeah. On with the show.

The trip to and from the graveyard the following day was decidedly uneventful. Neither Chris or Cole seemed to know what to say to it each, though Cole did have enough tact to look away when Chris began blinking rapidly in front of his grandpa's grave, obviously trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall. The return to the manor was just as quiet as the journey to the graveyard. Chris had been unusually quiet since Leo's visit, and Cole couldn't help but wonder just how badly the man's words affected his son. When they finally arrived back at the manor, Chris locked himself in his room, leaving only to grab something to eat downstairs. Although Cole was sure this could be counted as typical teenage behaviour, he knew it wasn't typical Chris behaviour, and began to wonder what the teen was up to.

Chris emerged from his room, properly, on the 23rd of December, the day before Christmas Eve. He was still unusually quiet, but Cole was grateful for small miracles at this point. "Christmas in a couple of days," he said to Chris softly, looking down at the paper. There was an awkward pause before Cole continued, "do you want me to organise anything?" he asked, making sure not to catch Chris' eyes. Chris gave a shrug in response, not committing himself to anything, but plans of his own swirling around in his mind. Cole sighed, closing the newspaper he had been reading over. "Are you planning on keeping up the silence for all of this holiday Chris?" he asked tiredly.

"I'm planning to go and visit Wy tomorrow, does that answer any of the questions?" Chris said, leaning back in his chair with a bored look on his face. Cole frowned slightly at this, looking over at Chris.

"I thought he didn't celebrate any holiday anymore?" he asked, confused as to why Chris would go to visit him if this were the case.

"He doesn't" Chris replied flippantly. Cole's frown continued.

"So you're going to visit him for the sake of it?" he asked, coming up with the only conclusion that he could. Chris turned to look at him, no fixed expression on his face.

"Pretty much yeah," he told Cole, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to do. Actually, with Chris, it was the most obvious thing for him to visit Wyatt just for the sake of it. "It's Christmas, and he's still my brother," he explained, picking at his nail randomly, "Christmas is a family time, right?" he sounded out the question as if unsure of its meaning. "So, I should visit with my only living family."

 **XXX**

At Wyatt's own manor, the tone was very subdued, and there were only a few present in the building, which included Wyatt himself. As it was the holiday season, despite how little he actually like the holiday, Wyatt had given permission for people to return to their homes to celebrate with their families. Those who remained either did not have families, or had no wish to celebrate.

Wyatt had excused himself to his private chambers, sitting at the desk and looking over a list of expenses. Running his kingdom, for truly he was king of the new world, or he would be, was an expensive business. Wyatt was only thankful that he didn't care. Still, it was nice to see exactly how much destruction his forces had caused, and that he was never going to pay for. It was refreshing in an odd sense.

A small chime came from the clock which he kept in his chambers, causing Wyatt to look over his shoulder slightly, stretching at the same time. He had been sitting for at least three hours, and was surprised that he had actually got the peace he desired. Normally he would have been interrupted by Sidney, his little pet. Wyatt gave off a small, cruel smirk at the thought. The bastard daughter of Lord Voldemort, of Tom Riddle, and his most loyal follower. A way of claiming some form of immortality should all else fail. Dear Tom had practically offered his daughter on a plate to him when he realised that the young upstart was a Halliwell, and the most powerful magical being in the world.

But that was at the very beginning of the summer this year, and it was hard to remember that it had only been about six months. So much had happened in such a short time, as Wyatt recalled grimly, and lives had been lost. And almost lost, he remembered violently, recalling the incident at the Ministry at the beginning of the summer …

'" _Minister! Minister you must flee!" the high pitched tone reached about the noise of the battle, and from behind his mask, Wyatt could make out a rather toad like figure clinging on to the arm of the man who, as he had been recently informed, was the British Minister for Magic. Wyatt smirked slightly, the man was weedy, and lacked the proper attitude to have such a position, it simply wasn't right. Of course, his new 'employees' would argue that it 'simply wasn't right' to have him down in the midst of the battle, but he had to lead, how else would they know to bow to him? He lead one team, while Chris lead the other, the two brothers, reaching forward with their new rule._

" _Oh, that simply won't do," Wyatt muttered slightly, waving his had and sending a number of Ministry employees flying back at once, with a bored look on his face. There were more screams, and laughter as the Death Eaters attacked a group who were attempting to hide in an alcove, too scared to fight back. How pitiful. Wyatt moved forward, ducking to avoid a stupidly thrown curse which landed safely to the side, touching no one. He rolled his eyes. Tonight's attack on the Ministry had been nothing more than a recon mission, discovering how powerful the place was. And to his great disappointment, it wasn't even worth the energy of this attack._

" _Hey! Toadie!" Wyatt looked up, seeing the masked figure of Chris crowing over the toad figure, who glared back in outrage._

" _I am Dolores Jane Umbridge, senior under secretary to the Minister of Magic and you will show me the respect I deserve!" she snapped at him, gaining only a laugh from Chris._

" _Under secretary is it?" he asked, a mischievous tone in his voice. Wyatt leaned against a nearby wall, lazily flicking a jet of red light away from him, settling in to listen to Chris' latest annoyance attempts. Though lacking the style that he himself had, Wyatt had to admit Chris had a flair for getting under people's skin. Leo was a perfect example of that. "So that means what? You just sorta … lay there … under him, not moving but reassuring that he's got what it takes," Wyatt could almost see the smirk that the mask hide, and saw the fury in Umbridge's face. He let out a soft chuckle. "Though isn't that technically bestiality?" Chris mused out loud, increasing the fury in Umbridge's face._

 _It happened quickly, but thankfully not quickly enough. A flash of green light came shooting out from Umbridge's wand, aimed directly at Chris' heart. "CHRIS!" Wyatt yelled, spotting the light and moving forward to try to grab the wand out of the human toad's hand. Chris' eyes widened behind the mask, and he orbed in time. Dimly, Wyatt noticed that his brother's orbs were more like that of a whitelighters in appearance, rather than the dark lighter orbs he had become used to seeing but he didn't think on it too much. The green light hit the orbs, and there was a loud groan of pain, as Chris, reformed, collapsed on to the ground, too pale and too still._

 _Wyatt ran over to his brother, yelling in his commanding tone for his forces to fall back, and grabbing hold of Chris' still form, praying that he was still alive, and seeing his own dark orbs cover the both of them … '_

Oh, for once the Ministry had been successful in covering up the incident but the memory still remained in Wyatt's mind. His brother was lucky to be alive, he had been hit by a killing curse and it was extremely lucky that the curse had only made contact with his orbs. It was that which had prevented him from dying on the spot. Being at a school, however, with the woman who had almost killed could not be helping his psychological state. Wyatt scowled, leaning back in his chair, thinking deeply. It wouldn't do to have her remain at Hogwarts, not if Chris' post there was to become semi-permanent. No, it was decided, he would simply have to kill Dolores Jane Umbridge. A sort of repayment for almost killing his brother.

Speak of the devil … "Hey Wy," came the drawling tone of Chris, walking into the private chambers with an air of confidence that would suit none other but him. "Happy holidays, and guess what? You're stuck with me for them," Chris grinned, sitting up on the desk with an amused glint in his eye. "So sorry old chum," he said, affecting a mock English accent. He looked around himself. "Well ain't ya just a festive bunny Wy," he commented, looking at the doom and gloom of the manor.

"I do not care for this particular holiday," Wyatt said dismissively, waving his hand vaguely. "It is all glitter and lights, and I have many better things to do," he said.

"Oh right, better things to do," Chris echoed, a mock serious look on his face, "which is exactly why you're lazing around in your room, doing fuck all?" he smirked at his older brother, who shot him an annoyed glare. He held up his hands in admittance of defeat. "Okay, okay, no more mocking the big, bad, powerful leader," he said, rolling his eyes slightly.

"What brings you here anyway Chris?" Wyatt asked, turning fully to face his little brother. "I was under the impression that you were spending the holidays in the school." There was a pause. "Did something happen to change that plan?" Wyatt asked curiously. Chris shrugged slightly.

"Got bored with the school scene and orbed out when the holidays started," he answer blithely. "The place is so damn boring, ya woulda done the same if you were in my place," he pointed out casually. "And anyway," he said, his voice slightly softer now, "it's Christmas Wy, family time." There was a silence between the two brothers. Chris spoke up, in a joking tone, trying to break the uneasy silence. "Hope Santa brings what I asked for."

Wyatt looked over at his brother with a tired expression. "Chris, you're 16 years old. You _know_ there's no such thing as a Santa by now surely," he said, mocking him slightly. Chris walked over to where Wyatt was sitting, looking at him with the most serious expression he had ever worn.

"Wy, we're witches," he said, "you command demons. We've seen fairies, and goblins, and dragons. We had an Elf for a nanny if you remember," he pointed out, adding with a shrug, "why can't there be a Santa?" Wyatt raised an eyebrow, silently asking Chris if he really believed all that. He was answered by yet another shrug, Chris walking over to his bookshelf, picking up a book at random and flicking through it with little interest in it.

"Hey, d'ya remember when we were kids?" Chris came out with suddenly, "when the Titans attacked and you brought forward the original Greek Gods?" he said, a light in his eyes and a grin on his face. Wyatt thought quietly, nodding when he found he could vaguely recall the situation.

"Is there a point to this particular recollection Chris?" Wyatt asked, watching his younger brother carefully. "And don't shrug, getting fed up of you shrugging instead of answering properly," he muttered, looking down at the ground.

"I was just thinking, be good to still have Ares around," Chris said, refraining from adding a shrug at the end of his sentence. "I mean, God of War aside, he was an alright guy," he said, pausing slightly, "don't know about the all black leather though," he admitted. Wyatt rolled his eyes, sighing slightly.

"You always did attach yourself to any father figure you could find," he pointed out, a hint of cruelness in his voice. Chris looked towards the ground, his hands clutching into fists as he breathed deeply. Wyatt recognised the actions for what they were, calming exercises. What he didn't understand is why Chris was choosing to calm himself down, normally he would lash out for a remark like that.

"I was referring to the training he gave us, _brother dearest_ ," Chris' tone had taken on a definite edge, and Wyatt silently pushed his chair back a little, preparing himself to lash out if attacked. He wouldn't seriously hurt Chris … "Do you remember that? He trained us, especially when he found out you were the only one who could use that damn sword," he added, eyes narrowing in anger. "I thought that if he were still here, we'd have a better chance. He is the God of War for a reason you know," he finished, looking down at the ground. Wyatt laughed.

"I'm more powerful than any of the so called Gods that I brought forward in time to fight the Titans," he said, his ego growing with each word. "If it's training your after, little brother, then training I shall give you," he added, self satisfaction in his tone. "You could do with sharpening up on your orbing," he told Chris, smirking at him. Chris closed his eyes, forcing himself to continue with his calming exercises. "I mean, it's getting slightly sloppy your work," he could hear Wyatt saying, "I think you're getting an easy ride of it in that school, just sitting, out of harms way …."

"I'm in the same building as the woman who tried to kill me, and probably would again if she got the chance," Chris snapped, glaring up at Wyatt, "do you honestly think I'm out of harms way?" Wyatt stared at Chris for a moment or two, Chris meeting his eyes and staring right back. In the back of his mind, an itch was burning for Wyatt, almost as though a secret fear was being proven, until Chris dropped his gaze. "… M'sorry … " he muttered, "I just really don't like that woman."

"It's alright," Wyatt said, raising his head slightly to look at the clock. It was getting late, and he had no intention of letting Chris stay through to Christmas Day, as he might actually have to celebrate the holiday if he did. "You should go," he said, pausing for a moment, as if ready to say something. Chris frowned, waiting to see what Wyatt would say, watching as Wyatt shook his head, changing his mind. "Sid left you a present, I believe it's in your quarters, you should get it before you leave."

And with that, Chris was effectively dismissed from his brother's company for the night. He shook his head slightly, before wandering off to his own room in the manor to pick up the gift from Sid. He entered his room, picking up the small box and staring at it for a moment or two. "Weird girl that Sid, absolutely no taste in guys," he muttered lightly, a slightly bitter tone mixed in with his voice. He shrugged it off, turning and beginning to walk away, orbing back to his own home when he was sure no one was looking.

Wyatt watched from a viewing room in his chambers, having decided to install security cameras throughout his headquarters, watching the image of his brother orbing away. With light, whitelighter like, orbs. The burning itch came back with a vengeance as Wyatt watched the screen, recalling the insane words of Barbas, of the Prince overthrowing the King. He continued to stare at the screen, deep in thought.

"Should I fear you now Chris?" he wondered out loud, unsure of the answer.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while hasn't it my dear readers? I do apologise but right after I came back from my holiday (and side note - I am now 18 so woot! Go me) I started my HN Social Sciences course at the local college, and so my time has been taken up by essay writing. But Chris got pissed off at me and kicked me into writing so here is - finally - chapter 19! Now… let's 'ave it large. Oh yeah, my standard disclaimer applies and I make it a point to reply to my reviews so if you want to know something just ask and I'll do my best to help you out! And I do apologise if this chapter seems a little on the short side - blame the essay I have to do on the causes of the French Revolution. Well, the main factors of the economic cause at least.

Chris emerged in his room at Grimmauld Place and immediately began ransacking, searching for something. His gift from Sid - a cool new pair of sunglasses - were tucked in, hanging off the collar of his top. He knew, dimly, at the very back of his mind, that he should probably go out and buy Sid something in return, it was only right after all, but he couldn't be bothered with it, so he didn't. His ransacking was very loud, and he couldn't help but be surprised that no one had come to find him yet. It was only a moment's surprise, but it was there.

Eventually, he came across what he was looking for underneath a pile of clean linen for the beds. A rather bashed cigarette box. With a small smirk, he opened the box, finding only one cigarette inside. "… shit," he muttered quietly, remembering the time he had spent during the summer soaking all of his cigarettes, and cutting them in half. He wasn't addicted to smoking, but when he was particularly stressed, which didn't happen often either, he claimed he needed to smoke to calm down. However, he was annoyed at himself, for being so dependant on something that could be used against him, so he had attempted to stop himself. Staring down at the lone cigarette, he bit his bottom lip, silently debating with himself.

"This is my last one," he muttered, raising it to his lips, and searching for his lighter. When found, the lighter proved itself to be without lighter fluid, making it useless. He scowled, lowering the cigarette, and staring venomously at the ground. He felt a warm on his free hand, and looked down to see one of his fingers on fire. Shrugging slightly, he lit his cigarette with the lit finger, shaking it out once he was down, and taking a long drag. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of the smoke on his tongue, and feeling himself relax with each drag he took.

He hadn't meant to get that annoyed with Wyatt, but it was hard not to when his brother went out of his way to deliberately annoy him. Which happened to often to count. Chris sighed, scuffing his boot on the ground. It used to be so simple, but ever since summer that year things had went from bad to worse. He supposed it was a punishment of sorts for almost getting himself killed, something which Wyatt would never forget, even if Chris tried to. There was a lot of stuff that Wyatt wouldn't forget, Chris noted, but he had forgotten a lot that should have been remembered as well. Chris frowned slightly, taking yet another drag. If he didn't know better, and he was slowly realising that he didn't, it was as though Wyatt was slowly erasing their family.

There was a shuffling noise at the door, causing Chris to stub out his cigarette quickly, as he had a feeling Molly would actually slap him if she caught him smoking. A blonde head popped around the door, grinning as she saw him. "You were right Mrs Weasley, it was Chris," Luperca called. She looked at Chris, "She wanted me to tell you there's some food in the oven if your hungry," she informed him, walking away. Chris frowned. Neither of them made sense, Luperca or Craig, they just didn't seem to fit. It was like someone had simply just created them, and placed them in. He shook his head at the thought, wondering how long he had spent reading comics as a child. He was a magical being, it was highly possible that his whitelighter side was picking up on slight changes in a different reality. He had heard of it happening before, but always thought it was Elders would were affected. Obviously not. A grumble in his stomach made him standing, and head down to the kitchen to grab something to eat - with any luck he could enjoy his Christmas, even if Wyatt wasn't.

 **XXX**

On Christmas day, Chris joined the family in their trip to St Mungo's to visit Mr Weasley. Chris was quickly informed by Fred and George's little sister Ginny, as he noticed she was nothing like Ron, about Harry's fears that he had been possessed by Voldemort. Said fears caused Chris to roll his eyes and slap Harry around the back of head, claiming that he was an idiot to think all Tommy had to do with his time was possess a teenager. He didn't tell Harry that he was halfway there though, no, he decided Harry would need to attempt to work that little bit out himself, as telling him would be helping him, and Chris had no strong desire to do something that could allow Wyatt to lift the ban he had given Voldemort on harming Chris.

In the ward, a place that Chris automatically hated from memories, they found Mr Weasley sitting up on his bed, the remains of a turkey dinner in front of him, and a sheepish look on his face. It was the look that made Chris wonder if his eardrums would survive the yelling that was yet to come. Obviously the others thought it too, as in under a few minutes, they were all standing outside the doors of the ward, hearing Mrs Weasley screech at her husband, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

"Typical Dad. Stitches … I ask you … " Ginny remarked, shaking her head in disbelief at the very idea of her dad sewing up the wound created, as if it was incredibly old fashioned. Chris frowned slightly. In theory the stitches should have worked.

"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds," Hermione pointed out, "I suppose there was something in that snake's venom that dissolves them or something. I wonder where the tearoom is?" Chris stopped at Hermione's words. Something in the snake's venom … He had been bitten by that snake before, there was nothing in the venom.

"Nothing naturally," he muttered softly, realising slowly that Voldemort would have planned a back up in case of disturbance.

"Pardon Chris?" Ginny asked, smiling sweetly at the boy, with something of a blush about her cheeks. Chris frowned at the girl, wandering ahead quickly to walk along side Craig. The wereboy gave Chris a polite smile, before returning to his conversation with George about whether the Extendable Ears should be given a warning that eavesdropping could lead to being beaten up. They walked along the corridor, through a set of double doors, before finding a rickety staircase lined with portraits of brutal looking Healers. As the group climbed, the Healers called out to them, diagnosing them with the oddest of complaints and giving rather horrible remedies. At the very top of the stairs, on the landing which marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE, a soft voice called out to Chris.

"My son, so much you have been through, and yet there is more to come."

Chris turned, looking for the source, ignoring the others who were more fixated on whatever was happening in the Spell Damage corridor, before eventually turning to the wall beside him, seeing a plain wooden frame. "What the …. ?" he muttered, walking over to it, rubbing at the small sign under it, eyes widening at the name written there:

 _Melinda Warren_

"Melinda…?" Chris said, his voice holding a bit of awe and respect rarely used. He looked up at the frame, watching as his ancestor stepped forward, smiling kindly at him.

"Are you surprised that I recognised a son of my line?" she asked him, looking at him with such a kind tone in her eyes that Chris felt as though he should confess every little thing he had ever done wrong, including that one time he, as a young child, accidentally orbed into the Golden Wood and was stayed with the Queen of the elves for a few days until he could work out how to orb back to the manor.

"Surprised that you're in a wizarding world hospital … or your portrait is," he corrected himself slightly, remembering that Melinda was in fact dead, and what he was talking to was an enchanted painting. "…And surprised that you don't seem surprised boys were born into the Warren line," he admitted, with a slight shrug, "I mean, it was all Grams complained about."

"Penny had reason to fear did she not? Haven't her fears become apparent?" Melinda said softly, still smiling at Chris who gave no expression. He simply shrugged lightly.

"How can she fear the dead?" he asked, causing Melinda to look at him in puzzlement. "Officially, I'm the only living member of the Warren line left," he told her, causing her to look at him in great sadness. Chris inwardly rolled his eyes. Why did no one ever think to ask about unofficially? Though, he had to admit, Melinda did have a point. Eventually Grams did give up complaining about him and Wyatt, and fussed them like she did all her great grandchildren. He just thought it ironic that her belief that males couldn't be trusted with power came true, he just had to look at his big brother to prove it. He was still waiting on her to say 'I told you so'.

"My son, I am saddened deeply for your loss, and only wish I could have foreseen a way to prevent it," Melinda said to Chris.

"Don't go wasting your emotion," Chris advised her, "I've pretty much dealt with it," he informed her. It wasn't exactly a lie, he had, after all, dealt with it. He just hadn't dealt with it all that well.

"Why are you so cold?" Melinda asked him, staring at him with worry. Chris shifted slightly. Melinda paused, staring at him. "I know that you are not the Twice-Blessed … "

"Because he has to appear in every conversation that I have with a family member doesn't he," Chris muttered kicking the ground. Melinda gave a soft laugh.

"Jealously is not an emotion I like," she said softly, "though your brother may have had his powers before he was born, that is not reason to … "

"Hang on …. You saying he had powers in the womb?" Chris asked, staring hard at Melinda, who nodded once. "In the _womb_?" he exploded. "Oh fantastic, thanks for telling me that Melinda," he snapped at the portrait, "as if I didn't already have an inferiority complex as if it, lets make it worse by telling me that my older, golden boy, fucking _perfect,_ brother had not only full control over powers whenever he got new ones, but, hey, he had power in the womb!"

"Chris….?" Hermione's voice spoke softly in the corridor. Chris turned, noticing that the others had finally returned from wherever it was that they went. "Why are you yelling at the portrait of," she moved to check the name, before standing up straight, making a small 'oh' motion with her mouth.

"I am yelling at the portrait of my ancestor because she so kindly chose to add to my inferiority complex, which is pretty annoying as it stands already," Chris informed the group at large before scoffing lightly. "You know what Melinda? It's been real, but I don't think I'll be keeping in touch," he informed her, orbing away quickly.

"If that boy has an inferiority complex," Ron began, "then what the hell chance do I have?"

 **XXX**

Chris remained in his room for the rest of the night, leaning against the wall and occasionally hitting his head off it. He didn't understand how he could have been so stupid as to explode like that in a public place. Obviously he was still affected by his confrontation with Wyatt from the day before. He leant forward, rubbing at his eyes, trying to remember if he had actually slept since Leo showed up at the manor. Speaking of … Chris looked at the letter which had arrived for him that morning, by the same pure white owl that Leo always chose to use. He picked it up, holding it for a few moments in his hand, before slitting the envelope open, pulling out the letter inside.

' _Christopher…'_

This alone almost made Chris put down the letter, but he forced himself to continue reading.

' _Christopher,_

 _It's only right that I, in my role as your father, write to you on this holiday. I can only say that I assume that you are keeping well, and that I hope that you turn back to being good. Though I can't say I hold out much hope for that one. Seriously Christopher, I know you keep saying that Wyatt's the evil one, making you do these things, but I visited Wyatt, he isn't evil! How can you say stuff like that about your own brother Chris?_

 _Oh yeah, while I remember, the Elders mentioned to me that you attempted to call your mother to you on your birthday. You know you're forbidden from seeing any of the sisters Christopher. As punishment for allowing Victor to die instead of protecting him. He was the innocent, and you the witch Christopher! Not the other way round._

 _That's all I've really got to say to you. For god's sake stay out of trouble_

 _Leo.'_

The flames had been rising as Chris read, flaring up unbearably hot at the mention of his grandpa. He hadn't let Victor die for him, he fought with him, trying to protect him, Grandpa just refused to listen. He tried explaining that to the Elders, which lead to them punishing him, resulting in him making the deal. He fingered the scar on his hand lightly. "Protect the wizarding world's saviour. Protect Harry Potter," he muttered, remembering the words of the Elder who had allowed Chris' bargain to go through, making him make a blood promise. Should be betray said promise, Chris' fate was death. Which didn't really scare him to be honest, people in his family never seemed to stay dead long.

Protecting Harry, however, was easier said than done. Especially when he hated the kid's guts and would like nothing better than to deliver him, gift wrapped, to Voldemort himself. He suspected that he could like Harry if he wanted to, but Wonder Boy was all about making himself into a martyr, and that wasn't exactly Chris' style. There was enough people calling for his death, demons mostly, so he might as well attempt to enjoy whatever time he might have left rather than sit and pity himself every day. He blinked, noticing that Leo's letter was now ash in his hands, ash which he quickly threw out of the window.

He sat back down on his bed, fidgeting slightly as he thought through what he had come to. He was, in effect, an outcast of whatever side he tried to align himself with. Too good to be evil, too evil to be good. Better to play both the sides at their own game, staying one step ahead of them all and keeping his wits about him. Like chess.

Just a pity he wasn't any good at chess.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be the fastest that I have ever written a new chapter of this fic. Especially one that's just a bit longer than the rest (I'm getting annoyed that my chapter appear shorter on here than they do on my word document - I'll need to get used to it). But yes, here we are with chapter 20 of Tear it Up!
> 
> So, as always, my standard disclaimer applies and I hope you enjoy the fic.

The trip back to Hogwarts was one of the worst experiences that Chris had ever gone through and had no great desire to repeat it, announcing to the group at large that next time he would simply take the 'safer' option of orbing. The first few days back at Hogwarts were no great strain, Chris catching up on all the pranks Peeves had pulled in his name was the only priority he seemed to have; and he delighted in seeing Umbitch so annoyed at certain people's disappearance during the holidays. The biggest occurrence that happened really within the first two days was people finding out about Wonder Boy taking 'Remedial Potions,' which was so obvious a cover Chris began to wonder about the average intelligence levels of students in Hogwarts. Judging by Zacharias Smith, who Chris had great fun freezing doors closed in front of, it wasn't very high at all. Despite the fact that he knew that 'Remedial Potions,' was a cover for something else, Chris was yet to find out what it actually was Potter was learning in those lessons. It was the second night back after the holiday, however, that they seemed to have a repeat of the night before the holiday.

Chris, once again, was sitting on the window still, too ill at ease to sleep. He couldn't help but wonder why it had been so quiet, and wondering just what Wyatt was up to. He had caught sight of some of those papers on his desk, he was planning something, but Chris couldn't work out what. He stared outside, as if the night sky would reveal the answers that he was missing. Wild laughter echoed around the dorm room, reaching heights Chris previously though only possible to little girls. Looking round, he saw the noise coming from Potter, who had fallen on to the floor as soon as he had entered the room. Swinging his legs off the window still and onto the floor, Chris wandered over, watching as Ron began shaking Harry again, choosing not to shake the boy himself for fear of another premonition - which he still wasn't sure why he was having them. Eventually the laughter grew louder and louder, annoying everyone in the dorm room, which was only really Ron and Chris, but also sending a chill down their spines.

Until, that it, Chris got fed up and went over and slapped Harry around the face, jolting him awake. He lay on the floor, panting heavily and shaking with fear and worry. "What happened?" Ron asked, concerned for his friend. Harry gasped, forcing himself into a sitting position

"I … dunno … He's really happy … really happy … " he said, managing to look more scared than he had done previously.

"You-Know-Who is?" Ron asked, looking confused, and not understanding what it was Harry was saying. Chris frowned, kneeling down to sit beside them, finding himself welcomed as he was the only other one in the room.

"Something good's happened," Harry began to mumble, "something he'd been hoping for." Chris' frown grew at this, not doubting Harry's words, simply because he was proving that the hunch Chris had was right. He stood, allowing Ron to deal with Harry as he walked back over to the window still, deep in thought. He kept remembering his promise to the Elders, and knew that as long as Harry was still breathing, was still alive, he was keeping it. But if something that Voldemort had been hoping for had happened … that would make things slightly more difficult. When it came to Tommy's deal with Wonder Boy, it was one of the few times Wyatt hadn't kept him in the dark, where he preferred Chris to be. He knew about things that Potter didn't, and the Dumbledore hoped Voldemort didn't, though he knew he didn't know all of it.

Something he had been hoping for … Chris' mind could only rush with possibilities, each one seemingly worse than the other. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the paranoia. He'd find out in the morning, he was sure of it.

 **XXX**

 _MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN_ _  
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS 'RALLYING POINT'  
FOR OLD DEATH EATERS_

Chris stared at the headline with a small feeling of nausea. He thought he had met the majority of the Death Eaters already, and thought them sadistic to the core, and slightly disturbing. He looked around the Great Hall, noting Luna sitting quietly beside him, drinking her tea, seemingly scared by the headline. He also noted the death glares being thrown at Luperca. It was well known that she was the daughter of this 'dangerous criminal,' though he wondered if many cared enough to separate father from daughter. Looking up at the stage table, he saw the various Order members dashing about, worrying etched on their faces; and was pleased to see Umbitch looking as if she had just had her best toy taken away from her. He noticed the Golden Trio, heads bent over the paper, reading through it was serious expressions. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the story. Better get all the information before storming off.

 _The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass break out from Azkaban._ _Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and that he had already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.  
'We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were in two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped,' said Fudge last night. 'Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help other follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.'_

Chris gave a soft snort at the last sentence, realising how desperate it sounded, and just how stuck the Ministry was. They didn't have a single clue what had happened, and it was obvious they were only putting down Sirius' name to give the public some idea that they actually knew what they were doing. He picked up his coffee cup, smoothing down the paper to read over the article again. A mass breakout, that was what Tommy had been hoping would happen, and it was what had made him so happy. Chris scowled lightly. Oh sure, he got all his followers back, but Chris wasn't even allowed to keep a hellhound as a pet? Wyatt sure knew about equality. He drank some of the coffee, wincing when he realised it was too sweet, and replacing the cup on the table. He folded his paper over, turning to Luna with a soft smile.

"Gotta go for a bit Lunar, places to go, and people to scream at," he told her, causing a small laugh. He looked down at her kindly, which did draw some odd looks from those sitting around them. "But about the thing in the paper, don't worry," he said, his voice soft, making Luna looking up confused. "I'm more than a match for any stinkin' Death Eater," he grinned, causing another laugh. Satisfied that he had done something that attempt to lessen her fear, Chris looked up at the staff table once more, meeting eyes with Cole and nodding once, orbing away

 **XXX**

His arrival in the 'lair,' as he called it, went unnoticed due to the large party currently in progress to celebrate the successful breakout. Chris scowled once more, rolling his eyes at their stupidity. He walked through the different corridors, his plan forming quickly in his head, storming his way into Wyatt's private chambers despite the warning of the demon on the door that his evilness, the Source did not want to be disturbed.

He pushed opened the doors which leaded into Wyatt's bedroom and threw the newspaper on to the bed, effectively separating the two under the covers. "Get your pants on Wy, Tommy's went and royally fucked up," he said, leaning against the door. Wyatt sat up, breathing heavily and carefully covered by the blanket, and grabbed at the paper, his expression becoming more furious with every line he read. When he had finished, he jumped out of the bed, grabbing clothes and changing quickly. Chris smirked over at Sid, who was blushing madly, attempting to cover herself fully with the blanket. "Sorry, Sidders, looks like your little 'session' is gonna have to wait. Your daddy is in big trouble," he crowed, following his brother out of the room.

"THOMAS!" Wyatt's roar echoed throughout the whole of the lair, stopping the party in its tracks. He stormed through the lair, his anger causing many things to break, with Chris following him at ease, a smirk wide on his face. "THOMAS!" Wyatt called again, storming into his meeting room, sitting down on the large throne like seat that was there, Chris choosing to lean against the wall beside the door. On Voldemort's appearance, Chris' smirk grew.

"You're in trouble," he said, a sing song tone to his voice. Voldemort ignored Chris, thinking him beneath him, instead turning his attention to the blonde sitting on the throne.

"My Lord?" Voldemort asked, bowing low, doing nothing to rid Wyatt of his furious expression. He threw the newspaper at Voldemort, breathing deeply.

"I thought you said there would be no reports Riddle," Wyatt breathed, keeping his eyes on Voldemort, studying his every move. "An incident like this could ruin us, and if I thought for one minute you moved to overthrow me … "

"Never my Lord!" Voldemort insisted, bowing low once more, "you can be assured that, at the least, you have _my_ complete loyalty," he said, throwing a daggered glance at Chris, who stared back, determined not to allow himself to be intimidated by someone who must have had serious issues as a kid to make himself want to look like a snake. "I fear, my Lord, that our plan went awry, but I do not see this as a problem …"

"NOT A PROBLEM?" Wyatt yelled, standing up, furious once more. "Riddle in case you haven't noticed I am doing everything that my powers allow me to make sure I am not discovered until it is too late! An incident like this could cost us EVERYTHING!" Another loud crack, as the ornate mirror hanging on the wall above Chris fell to the ground, smashing to pieces. Chris looked down, noticing how close the mirror came to smashing on him, and decided to move away from the walls, just to be on the safe side. "If I am discovered Riddle, you shall be too, and let it be known that I shall give them all the information they need to make sure you are DESTORYED," Wyatt threatened, fire in his eyes.

Chris looked between the two powerful magic users, mentally calculating the damage a fight between the two would bring. He stepped forward. "Not that I wanna cause any more of this delicious friction, but if either of you chose to read the article properly, they're blaming this thing on Sirius Black, whoever the hell he is," he pointed out, studying both to see their reactions, and hoping that they didn't realise he was omitting details, at least on his half. Wyatt was the first to break the staring completion between himself and Voldemort, turning to look at Chris with a neutral look.

"And this means what exactly?" he asked, sitting back down in an attempt to show his usual calm. He looked at Chris still neutrally, something which made Chris slightly uneasy.

"Well, not much, but … " Chris paused, not sure if he should continue. He did quite like Sirius after all, he found the man humorous and at least he didn't try to baby him in the way that the other adults in the Order seemed insistent on doing. Well, except Mad-Eye, that is. He sighed, licking his lips to moisten them slightly, going with his gut instinct. "But it does mean that should we find out Black's whereabouts, we can use him to our advantage, maybe even, get him onside?" Wyatt frowned, considering this.

"Impossible," Voldemort scoffed, staring at Chris with a superior smirk. "My Lord I have had run ins with Black before, he is nothing but stubborn, stuck in the good against evil way of thinking. Nothing like the rest of his family," he added, thinking of his own child's relation to the man. "He will never agree to it. And last I heard," he said, remembering some nugget of information that he obviously thought important, "Black was a member of that stupid old man's Order."

Wyatt took this in, turning once again to study Chris. "Well?" he asked his younger brother, staring at him almost coldly now. "Is this true Chris? Are you lying to me?" Chris paused, his mind rushing, before a half smile crawled on to his face.

"Me? Lie to you?" Chris gave a small laugh. "As if Wy, I know better," he laughed, rolling his eyes at the absurd accusation. Wyatt studied him for a few moments more, before relaxing in his seat, a cool smile appearing on his own face.

"Of course you aren't lying to me," he said, dismissing his own accusation easily. "You are, after all, the most loyal supporter, brother," he insisted, "and you are the one who will rule at my side." Voldemort glared at this statement, furious that he was being passed over for a mere child,

"My Lord, it is possible that his time at that school has addled his mind," he rambled, determined to win back the position he was losing. "If you wish, I could apply Occlumency to him, to discover if he is indeed lying to you," he suggested, bowing again to show some form of respect. Chris frowned, having never heard of Occlumency before in his life.

"I don't think so Riddle," Wyatt said coldly, glaring at the powerful Dark wizard. "To even suggest such a thing tell me that you do not trust my judgement," he added casually, though his words held danger in them.

"Of course not, my Lord," Voldemort answered, once more playing the part of the perfect servant, though his eyes held hatred towards Chris. "I am your loyal servant, and will continue your plan on the wizarding world."

Wyatt smiled at this, reaching his hand out in a kingly gesture of benevolence. "Then you may continue your little vendetta against the Potter boy," he said, leaning back slightly on his throne. "Truth be told, the amount of protect he has received worries me," he admitted, thinking over the situation slightly. "I want any and all protectors eliminated Riddle, if we cut off his safety net, the boy can only fall," he said, his smile turning cruel, causing Chris' heart to thump a little faster. Thank the powers Wyatt had cut off all ties with the Elders, excluding Leo that is. And, for that matter, thank the powers that Leo had been told nothing of the mission the Elders had given him. Though now Chris could see the complications that mission was going to cause with the other missions he was on, including his own personal own. "Chris!" Wyatt called, breaking Chris out of his thoughts. "You should return to the school, they will be wondering. Feed them any story you like, just make sure I am kept out of it," he warned.

Chris nodded. "I always do bro', like I've said loads, you can count on me," he told Wyatt, allowing dark orbs to envelop him as he orbed back to the school. Wyatt watched, noting the using of dark lighter orbs over the whitelighter ones he could have sworn his brother used on Christmas Eve. Voldemort also watched, turning to Wyatt with a look of familiarity, suggesting that it had been a topic discussed before.

"I stick with what I have stated Riddle, Barbas is nothing more than a raving lunatic. We have nothing to fear from Chris," he said, still staring at the spot where his little brother orbed away. "Nothing at all."

 **XXX**

Chris orbed straight back into the chamber in Hogwarts that was often used for Order meetings, not surprised to discover Order members awaiting his return. "Well, well, well, ain't I loved?" he drawled, sitting down, forcing a cough, and generally acting as though he had run a marathon in a short period of time. "I might get used to this sort of welcome y'know," he laughed.

"What did you discover Chris?" Dumbledore asking, looking over his long, pressed together fingers, his half moon glasses perched at the end of his nose giving him the appearance of a nosy owl. "The Death Eaters, what did you discover?" he asked again, repeating himself to show the seriousness of the situation they were in

"Yeah, yeah, yeah calm your jet Gandalf, I heard you the first time," Chris said, leaning backwards slightly, and closing his eyes. Forcing his orbs to appear as dark lighter orbs always took a lot out of him, not to mention left him feeling in a great deal of pain. "Magic School," he said eventually, opening his eyes and leaning forwards. "They're holed up in Magic School."

"Then … then it's true," McGonagall, something akin to fear in her voice, "Voldemort has joined forces with this Source of All Evil," she near whispered, looking to Chris for the answer. Chris shook his head slightly.

"It's a possibility, but it ain't a big one," he bluffed. "They're working with demons that swear loyalty to the Source, but not with the big wig himself," he told them, looking round at them with wide eyes. "An' for that much at least, you lot should be grateful," he added, his voice dropping slightly.

"It is looking more and more likely that they shall join with the Source," Dumbledore mused, watching Chris closely. "And when that moment comes, can we count on your help? After all, it is widely known that only the Power of Three could defeat the Source before now," he began, "and it is said that only the power of the Twice Blessed could match their … " It was here that Chris angrily interrupted him.

"And I am neither the Power of Three or the damn all stinkin' powerful Twice Blessed Son. Sorry, but you'll have to make do with the fuckin' reject of the family, alright?" he snapped, orbing himself out in his anger. The members turned to look at Cole, who had been standing up at the back of the room. The demon sighed.

"You really shouldn't have mentioned his family," he suggested. "I'll go and talk to him," he nodded, flaming out and following Chris' orb trail, something which he could only do since Chris was allowing him. He had never managed it any other way. He found Chris sitting on the roof of the school, staring miserably out at the Forbidden Forest. He sat down beside him, facing the same way out as him. "So what did you really find out?" he asked, knowing from experience that the question 'you okay kid' never ended well.

"Wy's furious, Riddle's pissed, and I'm most likely gonna die before I hit 20," Chris said, not turning to look at Cole. He sighed, before explaining further, "I had to bullshit my way out of a bad situation, and it's only gonna get worse. Tommy boy wants to use this thing … Occlumency on me. What is Occlumency?" he asked, obviously confused. "Simple terms if you please."

"Best way to describe it simply is … mind reading," Cole said after a moment. Chris nodded his understanding, paling slightly when he remembered how close Wyatt had looked to agreeing to Voldemort's suggestion. "Chris?" Cole asked lightly, noticing the paleness in the teen.

"It's getting more dangerous Cole," Chris replied, with Cole nodding slightly.

"No one ever said it was going to be easy," he pointed out gently, "but you're doing as best as you can given the circumstances."

"My best isn't good enough, not anymore," Chris said, shaking his head, a new fire light in his eyes, and a smirk slowing crawling across his face. "We'll need to start turning it up now, demon dude."

Cole looked over, amused at the new enthusiasm Chris was showing. He always suspected it would take something like a mass break out to do it. "Turn it up?" he asked.

"Yeah, all the way up," Chris said. "All the way up to 11."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rejoice, for here is yet another chapter of Tear It Up! … Oh come on, maybe a little cheer? … Ah well, for all those still reading my drivel thank you! Loyalty is something deeply admirable and that … dear magic I'm sounding like Wyatt … can you sound like a character you write? I think I need a sleep, or two. Maybe three, just to be on this side of safe. So, erm, my standard disclaimer applies - this being one of the chapters in which I really do need it - (speaking of which I should probably write out again one day…) and - just a hint - I really do enjoy replying to reviews … it's fun. And kills time in my otherwise boring little life

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

 _Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information  
that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach_

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree  
Number Twenty-six_

 _Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

Chris had managed to have a lot of fun with this decree, as did other members of the student body;. The only down point was that it had resulted in an increase in the number of detentions people received; Cole had actually been forced to cancel some of Chris' training sessions - which were becoming less and less need but Cole had been reluctant to cancel them as they allowed him to make sure Chris didn't do anything stupid at least for a few hours each night - and made to frogmarch Chris down into Umbridge's study for his detentions. As a result, Chris' hand now bore a new scar, directly under his old one, this one reading 'Umbitch can kiss my wiccan ass.'

Needless to say, while students may have been impressed, the teachers definitely were not.

Chris' antics continued, effectively killing the time that he would have otherwise been bored in. Without him really noticing, it was February, and then it was Wyatt's birthday. "Crap, crap, CRAP," Chris yelled, digging under his bed in the dorm, trying to find the present he had picked up the week before when he had ditched his classes for a day to go gift shopping in London.

"Erm, Chris," Harry said, looking over at the witch light with a look of amused curiosity on his face, "are you okay?" he asked. Chris paused in his searching, turning to look at Harry with look of annoyance.

"No, Wonder Boy, I am not okay," he said, drawling the words out. "I am very late for a party, and if I don't show up with a present the birthday boy will blast my ass to the pit and back." he told Harry, leaning back under the bed, digging around for the present. "I know it's here somewhere," he muttered, looking back under the bed, pushing aside his never opened copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_.

" … Chris, since when do you get invited to birthday parties?" Harry asked, staring in confusion. "The only friend you have is Luna, and I'm pretty sure her birthday isn't the 6th of February." Chris sighed, admitting defeat with his search under the bed and standing up.

"Let me correct you there Wonder Boy, Luna is the only friend I have in this school," he said, dusting down his jeans. "Outside of this school, I have many friends, all of whom are cooler than you," he gave a sarcastic smile, ending in a rather sing song tone. He looked around the room with boredom, before laying his hand out flat. "Present," he said, watching with a sense of relish as Wyatt's gift orbed into his hand. "Huh, why didn't I think of that in the first place," he wondered out loud. He turned to face Harry, who was staring at him with a look of jealously.

"How do you get powers like that?" Wonder Boy asked, unable to keep the jealously which was clear on his face from entering his tone of voice. Chris looked at him, considering the matter.

"Have an asshole angel of a father?" he suggested finally, shrugging and orbing out of the dorm room. He had to admit, orbing was always a feeling that you couldn't really explain to anyone. How could you explain what it felt like to break into different molecules, but still be you? He stopped thinking on the subject, wincing as he forced his orbs into taking the appearance of dark lighter orbs. It was a painful process, but one that he had to undertake. He reappeared, standing in the entrance way of Wyatt's chambers. Today was the one day he would chose to give his brother the respect he commanded out of all his followers, of which Chris had voiced often he wasn't. He knocked on the door, and entered only when Wyatt had said he could.

"Hey Wy," he smiled, holding up the present with an unusual touch of nervousness, "happy birthday bro'." Wyatt stared for a moment, before turning to look at the calendar on the wall.

"Is that today?" he asked, with a moment's surprise. "I'd forgotten."

"Well, it is," Chris said, with a touch of his usual sarcasm. "And I actually went shopping in honour of it, so … just take the damn present.," he finished, shoving the gift into his brother's hand, looking away from him quickly, knowing that Wyatt would take this opportunity to mock him.

Instead of mocking his little brother, something Wyatt was tempted to do, he accepted the gift with a good nature, unwrapping it and smiling. "Well, well, well, where did you pick this up?" Wyatt asked, turning the book over in his hands. _Morder's Book of Magic_ was an ancient text, with only one known copy in existence, the copy which Wyatt now held in his hands, which just happened to be the original copy of the book, complete with footnotes from Morder himself.

"London," was Chris' vague answer. Wyatt nodded, flicking through the book with growing interest. There were spells in this book that would definitely help further his plans, and decrease some of the risk factors that came with some of the plans. "So…a good present then?"

"A good present, you do seem to have a knack at this stuff," Wyatt admitted. "Though that's due to the bond … "

"You mean the thing Mom and the sisters had?" Chris asked, faking ignorance. Wyatt gave him a look and he held his hands up in defeat. "I know what you're on about Wy, it's just a little on the whole … mystical crap side for me," he shrugged.

"You always were a scientist above everything," Wyatt commented lightly. Chris shook his head

"It's not a belief in science, it's more finding the idea of a bond to be a little too … powers that be," he finished lamely, shrugging as he spoke. "I don't deny its existence, you know I'm well aware there's this magical bond between us Wy," Chris said, licking his lips slightly to deal with their dryness, "I'm just reluctant to use anything that would put us back in the view of the Elders." Wyatt considered this for a moment or two.

"Indeed," he said finally, looking at his brother with a hint of pride in his face. "How interesting for you to think on that, it was not a consequence I had considered, the Elders could have spies amongst us," he mused out loud. Chris shook his head.

"They're not that smart, well," Chris said, thinking over his statement, "they are, but they're not that stupid. Wy, your defences are tight, no spy would be able to stay in your company long enough to get any good information outta you." Chris gave a short laugh. "Hell, no one's in your company long enough to get any sort of information outta you."

"Except you," Wyatt said, his voice soft and his tone dangerous, causing Chris to stop in his tracks. He stared at his older brother for a few moments, his mind racing to find a way to dig himself out of the hole he created.

" … Except me," he conceded. "But, come on Wy, why the hell would I play spy for the stinkin' Elders," he said, giving his brother a look of annoyance that he could inadvertently suggest such a thing.

"True," Wyatt said, keeping eye contact with Chris. "I know you would never betray me brother." he said, making himself sound regal. He did this so often, Chris couldn't help but think he was playing Merlin to Wyatt's Arthur. Wyatt kept an eye on Chris, speaking with a hint of boredom. "You really should get back to Hogwarts, how else will its defences weaken if you spend all your time here?"

"… Real quality timer ain't ya Wy?" Chris drawled, forcing himself not to wince as the dark orbs surrounded him. Wyatt continued to watch well after his brother had orbed away. Whether he liked it or not, Barbas words had gotten to him, and played at the front of his mind often. He was almost completely positive that he had nothing to fear from his younger brother, but often he would come out with a statement which would have Wyatt wondering. He had discussed the issue many times with Riddle since Barbas had yelled it during his torture session, leading to Wyatt banishing the pitiful demon from his presence. But still … what was that song? Listen to the mad man? Perhaps that was a good idea.

 **XXX**

After Wyatt's birthday, the time passed quickly, Chris returning to his antics the way he had before, though there was a sense of something waiting to explode in him. On Valentine's Day, a holiday which he really didn't like, he had gleefully burned any and all cards he received in front of the girl's who gave him them, claiming that he wasn't interested in 'desperate.' Luna had giggled lightly, finding his actions amusing, though at the same time, chiding him to be nicer about it. Shaking his head, he had retreated to the library, spending his Valentine's day rereading his battered copy of _The Hobbit._ He always had been a bit of a Tolkien geek, and had placed his books in the magical history area in the library, informing the librarian that they weren't fiction, but in fact an accurate retelling of the troubles of Middle Earth.

He had received a week's detention for that one. And lines. The librarian really wasn't happy. He had quickly run from the library, ending up in the Great Hall when people began returning from Hogsmede, greeting Luna at the front door and listening to her story of Harry's interview for her Daddy's magazine. Chris nodded politely, butting in only once to ask Luna if he could get a copy of that issue, just to have a look at. Luna had nodded in her dreamy manner.

He had gotten that issue, a fortnight later like everyone else. It had come to him in a plain brown paper wrapped tube, which had been ripped open, allowing the magazine to drop out on to the table.

 _HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:  
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAME  
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN_

"Hm, pithy headline," he muttered, rolling his eyes and opening to the interview, reading through it quickly, though with little interest in it whatsoever. All it did was retell the story which he already knew, and had mocked Voldemort for many times over the summer. When he had finished reading, he closed the magazine over, waving his hand over it, orbing it directly to Wyatt, who he reasoned, could use the laugh.

It didn't take long for Umbitch to find out about the interview however, and her fury was something Chris couldn't help but be pleased at. Anything that annoyed her was brilliant in his eyes. By 11 o'clock that very morning, a new sign was posted on every notice board in the castle.

 _BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISTIOR OF HOGWARTS_

 _Any student found in possession of the magazine  
_ The Quibbler _will be expelled_

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree  
Number Twenty-seven._

 _Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._

"You complete and utter idiot Toadie," Chris muttered upon seeing the notice. If there was one way of guaranteeing that every student in Hogwarts would read the interview, it was to out rightly tell them that they weren't allowed it. After all, it was the teenage nature to rebel against authority. Especially if said authority was immensely disliked.

The next few days passed with little problem, and Chris was beginning to think that life was turning out to be normal. Classes came and went quietly, there was no news of the escaped Death Eaters. Chris didn't even seem to be getting as many detentions as he once did. To be honest, the normality of life worried him. Unseen from the school, a war was waging, and the fact that there was no hint of it here didn't do anything to set him at ease. Luckily for Chris, there came an incident which broke through the quiet.

It happened on a particularly lazy Monday evening. Chris was still sitting in the Great Hall; being reluctant to go back to the Gryffindor common room as people were still discussing how 'cool' Wonder Boy was for giving an interview that had been banned from the school. The whole thing caused Chris to feel slightly annoyed - all the kid had done was say things that one person who had the power didn't like. If they knew half of the things he had done … he would most likely be thrown in Azkaban. It was better for him to keep his mouth quiet about his past. The shriek came, breaking through the silence and causing everyone, except Chris, to jump. "At bloody last," Chris muttered, following the crowd into the Entrance Hall, noting off handily that Hogwarts had a lot of Halls.

In the middle of the Hall stood Professor Trelawney; wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other. Her hair was standing on end, and her glasses were lopsided. Overall, with her haphazard dress, she gave the strong impression that she was coming apart at the seams. At her feet sat two large trunks. She faced the foot of the stairs, looking at someone who Chris couldn't see, but would place money on who it was. Which he did, with a group of rather slow, but highly arrogant, Slytherins who were standing beside him. "No! NO! This cannot be happening …it cannot … I refuse to accept it!" she shrieked.

"You didn't realise this was coming? Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather , you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?" While Umbridge had been speaking, in a gleeful girlish tone, Chris had collected his winnings with a smirk, noting that it had been too easy. Professor Trelawney had begun to cry loudly.

"You c - can't!" she howled, "you c - can't sack me! I've b - been here sixteen years! H - Hogwarts is m - my h - home!" she hiccupped, looking a pitiful sight, tears running messily down her cheeks, her enormous lenses making it seem that much worse.

"It _was_ your home, until an hour ago, when the Minister for Magic countersigned your Order of Dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this Hall. You are embarrassing us," Umbridge said, her enjoyment of this scene clear on her face. She really was a nasty piece of work, Chris noted. He doubted Wyatt would even allowed her in his service, there was just something deeply off-putting about her. He watched as McGonagall, who he would finally admit to having some respect for, out of all the members of the Order apart from Molly, broke away from the spectators, marching up to Trelawney handing the woman a handkerchief.

"There, there, Sybill … calm down … blow your nose on this … it's not as bad as you think, now … you are not going to have to leave Hogwarts … " she said, comforting the weeping woman as best she could. She wasn't made to be someone to offer comfort though, Chris thought, studying the scene with a cool eye. She was too tall, too thin, looking more like a protector than someone who you would turn to for comfort.

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall? And your authority for that statement is … ?" Umbridge asked, her tone deadly, stepping forward from her position at the bottom of the stairs. McGonagall stared at the toad woman, meeting her eye contact and not breaking from it, something Chris thought important. When the time came, he knew McGonagall would be in the centre of the fight.

"That would be mine," the deep voice of Dumbledore rang out in the hall, commanding attention in a way that people wouldn't think would be the norm for commanding attention. The front doors stood open, from when they had been swung that way, in an impressive way of announcing oneself. Everyone watched as Dumbledore strode into the centre, and straight towards Trelawney.

"And here's comes Gandalf, saving the day once again, in the name of the greater good," Chris muttered rolling his eyes and kicking the ground slightly. It was almost laughable, how predictable Dumbledore's actions could be. He still thought the old man a bit on the dodgy side though, and he knew he wouldn't last the war.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge gave an unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Education Decree … " It was here that Chris grew bored, and put the whole scene on mute, a whitelighter ability Chris had mastered as a child, when he didn't want to hear the arguments between his parents, mostly because he seemed to be the root of every argument they had. He watched as Professor Flitwick charmed the two trunks belonged to Trelawney, floating them back up the stairs, Trelawney following him, still hiccupping slightly.

"You've found - ?" Umbridge was shrieking when Chris finally took the scene off mute, making him wish he really hadn't. " _You've_ found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Education Decree Number Twenty-two - "

"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if - and only if - the Headmaster is unable to find one," Dumbledore recalled, looking up at Umbridge with a look of mild amusement. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?" he finished, turning to face the open front doors, everyone in the Great Hall following suit. A shocked murmur coursed around the Great, those closest to the door moving back as quickly as they could, some even tripping up over their own feet, a path quickly being made.

Through the front doors came a shock of white-blond hair, and striking blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse. The centaur walked up to join Dumbledore, stopping only once in front of Chris, who had managed to find himself being pushed to the front of the crowd. It, no, he stared at Chris, recognising the power in him, or at least the source of it, and bowed low before him. Chris frowned. The centaur stood tall again, and continued on his walk, finishing by standing next to Dumbledore, the only one who hadn't seemed fazed by the creature's action to Chris.

"This is Firenze, I think you'll find him suitable," he said in a chipper tone of voice to a thunderstruck Umbridge. Chris smirked at the sight, moving himself forward so that he was now in Umbridge's eye sight.

"Well, this is gonna be fun," he called loudly, a dangerous smirk directed towards Umbridge, "might even see some fireworks."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latest chapter! Woo! ... Don't really wanna say much here (cause there's a lot in this chapter) except I love getting reviews and my standard disclaimer applies

Cole Turner was not the sort of man who would usually spend all of his free time researching. Technically he wasn't fully human, but that was sort of a moot point considering that even more technically he was dead. But again, that was getting off the point, which was the it was unusual to see him spending all of his free time studying; especially when the material he was studying was Arthurian myths and legends. He had been slightly obsessed with the topic since Christmas; since Barbas had appeared in the Manor and mentioned the Prince overthrowing the King, and had placed some form of doubt in Cole's head.

He had read all the myths and truths pertaining to the legendary sword Excalibur, and everything he read pointed to the same conclusion: only Arthur's blood could use the sword. He considered this point, as if only Arthur's blood could use the sword then could Wyatt? He wasn't of Arthur's bloodline, yet he was the only person who had control over the sword. It made no sense to him.

He looked up from the current book he was reading, watching as Chris entered his office. He checked his watch, noticing with a jolt that the training session had been due to start half an hour ago. Which in reality meant that Cole was meant to have delivered Chris for his latest detention half an hour ago. Oh well, he wasn't particularly bothered about Umbridge moaning at him, it made a change from Chris trying to set him on fire. He looked back down at the book again, it's ancient pages yellowed and faded, making it hard to read but he had managed it. Arthur's blood ….

"And the prize for biggest geek of the week goes to me, for actually handing in a piece of homework," a voice crowed from the door. Cole looked up to see Chris leaning against the doorframe, smirking widely. "Granted it was a piece of homework from September but hey, Rome wasn't built in a day," he shrugged

"Are you claiming your homework is that good?" Cole asked, amused. Chris shrugged again, not answering. "Oh yes, the noise earlier … was that you?" Cole asked.

"Nah, was Umbitch," Chris waved his hand vaguely. "Kicking out Trelawney," he added, wandering over and picking up one of the books on the desk, thankfully not the one which Cole had been reading.

"' _Camelot: Myths; Truths; and Legends'_ ," he read out the title with a puzzled look on his face. "Not your usual reading Demon Dude," he pointed out, replacing the book on the desk. "Not usual reading for anyone really," he added, frowning at the book cover.

"I've taken a recent interest in the Arthurian stories," Cole said carefully, "especially since finding out the legendary Excalibur actually exists." There was no expression on Chris' face, and Cole sighed. "I found a lot of references to it, and how only Arthur's blood can use it, but Wyatt isn't of Arthur's bloodline."

"Why do people assume that Arthur's blood, means Arthur's bloodline?" Chris asked, looking about the office lazily. Cole frowned, looking down at the book and flipping forward a page, staring in shock at what was written there.

"Arthur's blood … literally means … " he began, Chris interrupting him.

"The blood of Arthur himself," he said, rolling his eyes and staring up towards the ceiling. "Meaning that my brother, that Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, the current Source of All freakin' Evil is King Arthur Pendragon himself, reincarnate." Cole stared for a few moments, dumb with shock.

"Does he know?" he managed finally. Chris snorted, giving a dry laugh.

"You honestly think I'd let him find out?"

"Good point," Cole muttered, leaning back in his chair. He stared at the old book sitting open on his table for a few minutes before turning to Chris. "So … if he's Arthur, it's a lost cause?"

"Never a lost cause," Chris replied, looking away. "Missions are missions and everything has it's little glitches. The world is an imperfect place," he shrugged. He moved back towards the door, pausing slightly. "Just because he's the reincarnation of the King who united the magical worlds, and non magical Britain … it doesn't mean he's the same person. Wyatt is Wyatt, he's not his past self," Chris pointed out wisely, "they're not the same person. It's never a lost cause," he finished, looking at the ground and walking out of the room.

Cole sighed, looking back down at the book in front of him, at the infamous diary of Merlin, reading through the passage once more.

' _And so it shall come to pass that Arthur's blood will return to the plane in which he ruled so wisely; and Excalibur shall once again be seen by those who wish to see it. Let it be known that only Arthur's blood may use this infamous sword; lest it fall into hands of those who would with it do wrong. Yet, I fear that when the blood of mine brother-in-arms doth return to the world; it shall be corrupted; and the world will fall to ruin. The thought doth make me blood run cold, and make me fear for mine brother-in-arms legacy. Then it must be that when mine friend doth return; I shall return also. I shall return to mine friend, to guide and help him in his deep times of need, and protect him from the evil which doth look to corrupt him. I shall return in the form of a brother.'_

"If Wyatt's Arthur," Cole muttered softly, re-reading the passage again, trying to understand it, "then … " he paused, unsure of his thinking. " Then … oh god … "

 **XXX**

Classroom eleven, the new classroom for fifth years taking Divination, was on the ground floor of the castle, just along the corridor which led off from the Entrance Hall, at the opposite side to the Great Hall. From what Chris had managed to learn from other students, namely Fred and George, classroom eleven was one of the classrooms that wasn't used often by the teachers, though rumour had it that coupled up students often frequented the room round about midnight on the occasional night.

So, it was with a little sense of expectation that Chris entered the room, and found himself pleasantly surprised. The classroom floor was not the concrete he had expected, rather springily mossy, with trees growing out of it, leafy braches fanning out across the ceiling and windows, leaving the room full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, and green tinged light. Students were sitting on the earthy floor, backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around themselves and managing to make everything about them look very nervous. In the middle of the clearing, the only part of the room in which there were no trees, stood Firenze.

Chris watched, eyeing the centaur from the door, reluctant to enter the classroom. He had a vague memory of meeting a group of centaurs once when he was much younger. If he could remember correctly, they had contacted his mom and aunts when it appeared that their heard were being hunted down one by one by a warlock who wished to gain the knowledge of the planets. Again, if he remembered correctly, they were being betrayed by a member of their own heard, and had almost gotten himself and Wyatt killed. He had been distrustful of centaurs since.

"Young one, are you a member of this class?" Firenze asked Chris, his rich voice echoing slightly in the quiet clearing, stepping forwards as if moving towards him.

"Depends on if the situations calls for it," Chris replied, keeping eye contact with Firenze, determined not to let himself become intimidated by the centaur, despite his distrust of them. "Why d'ya ask?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to put himself at ease. Oddly enough, it did help a bit.

"The class is starting, and though I am sure a wise one such as yourself … " Firenze began, Chris rolling his eyes at the sentence.

"Not an Elder," he pointed out. "And they're not that wise either," he added, scowling slightly. Firenze frowned, his head tiling, staring unblinkingly at Chris, confusion on his face.

"But I am not referring to that, wise one," the centaur told him, causing Chris to frown. "I am referring to that which has past," Firenze continued.

"What do you mean that which ha … " Chris stopped himself mid sentence, looking around and realising that he had walked into the classroom while talking, without noticing. He looked to the ground, and gave a small laugh, looking back up at Firenze. "Alright, you got me man, I'll sit," he said, sitting down and resting against a tree trunk, legs outstretched, looking completely at ease when compared with the rest of the class. "Begin your lesson oh mighty being," he said, nodding once towards Firenze, who bowed lowly in return. The rest of the class stared, unable to understand exactly what had happened. Chris had been tricked by a teacher, and yet he hadn't attacked them.

There had to be _something_ wrong with the universe

 **XXX**

April saw a increase in the teachers reminding the students that their OWLs were drawing ever closer, though Chris had pointed out to each teacher that he didn't need to worry, as due to his magic he couldn't take any of the exams, even the theory, as it would could as it would count as personal gain and could lead to serious repercussions that could upset the delicate eco-system of Hogwarts itself.

He wasn't quite sure how he had managed to get away with that one.

It appear that nearly all the fifth year were suffering from some form of stress, in varying different degrees. It was Hannah Abbot of Hufflepuff, however, that had the honour of being the first to receive a Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey, after bursting into tears during Herbology, sobbing loudly that she was too stupid for her exams, and just wanted to leave school at that very moment. It was this little incident that made Chris realise that he could use his potions skills to his advantage, and so, with the help of Fred, George, Lee, and oddly enough Craig and Luperca, he had managed to set up a good little business, selling Calming Draught, and a special mix of Chris' own which de-stressed the taker and allowed them to focus on what they needed to focus on.

Again, he wasn't quite sure how he was getting away with all of this, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The DA lessons, possibly the only lessons apart from Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts which Chris turned out to without fail, were a nice little break, and seemed to be a beacon of happiness for the participating fifth years. Though Chris felt the only reason the majority of them kept showing up was because, like himself, they all wanted to see the look on Umbitch's face when they all received the top grade on their Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL.

Those who were actually doing the practical in the DA had started to work on producing Patronuses, a piece of magic which did interest Chris, as the Patronus seemed to be made of a material that was similar to Chris' own orbs. "So … a Dementor would be … what exactly?" he asked Luna, watching her silver hare gambol around the room lazily.

"Well," Luna began, pausing momentarily to give the question seriously thought, "they are foul creatures, the foulest the magical community has ever produced," she told him, an oddly serious look crossing over her face. "They take every happy thought and emotion and you don't get them back, just the worst memories that you've ever experienced … over and over again," she shivered slightly, her face showing the fear that she held towards these creatures. "The only way to fight against them is the Patronus Charm," she said. "Oh, and chocolate," she added brightly.

Chris gave a soft laugh, thinking through what Luna had told him. "My worst memories huh? They'd have a time choosing which ones are the worst," he muttered softly, his eyes still studying the Patronus, feeling a sudden wish that he could do wand magic, and that his wand could actually project magic. It was a general failing when you placed an item of pure goodness and an item of pure evil together; they cancelled each other out, leaving the null and void. Meaning that his wand was nothing more than a carefully carved piece of wood. "Lunar, in theory, and just in theory, these spells only work because you know what they're meant to do, right?"

Luna considered the statement, before nodding dreamily. "It would be reasonable to say that was the case. Why do you ask Chris?" she asked him, her head tiling to the side as she looked at him, smiling softly.

"What's that spell again?" he asked, not answering her question.

"Expecto Patronum," Luna recited with ease. "But you need a happy memory to go with it, the happiest memory you have," she added, concern in her eyes.

"I'll fake it," Chris said blithely, shaking his hands slightly. He had been studying up on the different forms of magic and the theory suggested that if he knew the result the spell was meant to have, he should be able to cast it, with or without a wand. He raised his hands, muttering the spell, and jabbing his two fingers forward. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened.. He tried again, this time speaking up a bit louder, but again there was no result.

"Chris, you really have to focus on the memory, its what projects the Patronus," Luna said kindly. "You have to believe in it completely, otherwise it won't work."

"Right … believe in it completely," Chris muttered, nodding at her. He closed his eyes, focusing on the image in his head, the one which he was using to 'fake' the happy memory, wishing it into existence. Though he didn't notice this, the entire room had fallen silent, with everyone watching him with beady eyes, waiting to see what he would produce. "Expecto Patronum," he muttered softly, eyes still closed, "expecto patronum," he muttered again, eyes still screwed closed. His hands had dropped to rest at his sides, as his eyes shot open, " _Expecto Patronum_." Luna could have sworn she saw his eyes turn gold as the spell was cast

Silver mist shot out from Chris, a shape forming quickly. First a wing, then a tail, the silver shape quickly growing. Obviously, due to Chris' inexperience with casting spells in this manner, the corporeal Patronus didn't last long, but people where able to see what it was. Chris blinked, looking around the room in general when his Patronus faded, seeing a mixture of shock and confusion on people's faces. "Was it just me, or did that look like a dragon?"

"Umbridge?" Harry's horrified question echoed through the room, causing everyone to turn and face him, motionless, and slightly terrified, "Is she coming?" he asked, causing a collective sharp intake in breath. The small House Elf that Harry was talking to, Dobby if Chris remembered correctly from his trips to the school kitchens, let out a huge howl, beating his feet hard upon the stone floor.

"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!" At once Harry straightened up, looking around the room with an authority that Chris was pretty positive shouldn't belong to him.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" He bellowed, "RUN!" In a split second people began to bolt towards the exit, a scrum forming at the door before people were able to burst through it. Chris sauntered towards the door, taking his time.

"Chris, we have to run," Luna said, her eyes wide. Chris shook his head.

"Close your eyes Lunar, and I promise you when you open them again you'll be sitting in your room," he said to her. Luna nodded, closing her eyes, allowing Chris to wave his hand, orbing her back towards her own room. Looking at the mess still at the door he shrugged, orbing himself out of the room.

"AAARGH!" He heard Harry yell, and couldn't help but roll his eyes. It didn't really take much to get Wonder Boy to yell these days. He wandered over in that direction, wondering if Harry had simply broken a shoelace this time, and was surprised to see Malfoy Junior crowing spitefully over the tripped up figure of Harry.

" … the hell?" Chris muttered, wandering over.

"Trip Jinx, Potter!" Malfoy crowed. "Hey, Professor - PROFESSOR! I've got one!" he yelled to some unseen teacher, though Chris would willingly bet large amounts of money on what teacher it was. Malfoy looked up, and on spotting Chris yelled again. "Make that two Professor!" Chris rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall.

"Fine, whatever, was just walking by but yes obviously you've got me for whatever nefarious deed it is I'm meant to have committed," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to remind him that _no,_ Malfoy was not a demon and he couldn't burn him. No matter how much fun it would be. And he meant that completely.

"It's them!" Umbridge cried jubilantly at the sight of Harry on the floor and Chris. "Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh very good - fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take then from here … stand up Potter!" Watching as Harry got to his feet, Chris couldn't help but smirk evilly towards Malfoy, who quickly realised the position he was in. "You hop along and see if you can round up any more of them Draco," Umbridge was saying, though both Malfoy and Chris were ignoring her. She continued talking, beginning to frogmarch Harry down the hall and ordering Chris to follow her. For once, he decided to do as she said.

"Be seeing you Draco dear," he snarled as he approached the now even paler than usual Malfoy, "do make sure you've got your will sorted out, 'cause I don't think you'll be getting out of this one," he added, a cruel smile appearing on his face.

Malfoy looked terrified.

 **XXX**

Dumbledore's office, a place where Chris had avoided visiting when invited along, or in some cases ordered there, was filled with people when they entered, with only Dumbledore, who was sitting behind his desk, looking at ease. Beside him, standing rigidly, was Professor McGonagall, looking extremely tense. The man Chris recognised as being Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, was rocking on his toes beside the fire, looking immensely pleased with the situation. At either side of the door stood Shacklebolt and another wizard Chris was sure was called Dawlish. He momentarily congratulated himself for memorising the names and faces of the Aurors on the Ministry payroll before Wyatt's attack on the place during the previous summer, it was something he found quite useful.

"Well, well, well, well … " Fudge muttered, looking at Harry with a venom laced glare.

"They were heading back to Gryffindor Tower, the pair of them," Umbridge said, excitement in her voice, reminding Chris of the happy tone she had used when informing Trelawney she was fired. "The Malfoy boy cornered them."

"Did he, did he?" Fudge said in an appreciative tone of voice. Chris raised his hand.

"Hey, the Billy Idol wannabe did not corner me," he said in a tone of contempt. "He saw me simply walking along the corridor, wondering why someone had played a dirty trick on Wonder Boy, yelled for Toadie, then crapped himself when he realised I can, and most likely will, beat him up easily." The room stared at him, some in shock, others in disgust. "What?" Chris asked, shrugging lightly. "I don't take to snitches all that well."

"I hope, for his own sake, that this boy is joking," Fudge snapped.

"You hope that," Chris nodded sagely, "I'll keep the truth to myself. It's better for all involved that way." Fudge ignored him.

"Well Potter … and … the other one," he said, referring to Chris in a flippant manner that had his hand twitching. "I expect you know why you are here?"

"Ye-no," Harry answered, while Chris shook his head. Fudge stared at them.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry repeated.

"You don't know why you are here?"

"That's what we've been saying, are you deaf as well as blind and stupid?" Chris snapped, getting bored of the situation. "Well come on, it's obvious from her ugly face," here he pointed at Umbridge, much to the audible outrage of the adults in the room, "that you think we've broke some major school rule."

"Chris, what the hell have you done now?" Harry cried in outrage, clicking on to what Chris was attempting to do. "And why I am getting blamed for it?"

"Because I probably got bored and decided that it would be fun to make it look like you did … whatever it is I did," Chris shrugged.

"'Whatever it is you did', do you honestly have no idea boy?" Fudge snapped at Chris, who shrugged again, affecting a posture that suggested a world weary boredom.

"You'll have to forgive him Minister," Harry said, speaking on Chris' behalf. "He does a lot of stupid stuff, and breaks a lot of rules," Harry gave a short bitter laugh, "it's a wonder he's a Gryffindor at all, he'd be better suited in Slytherin, to tell you the truth," he said.

"Indeed," Fudge said dryly, eyeing Chris with a look of disgust and annoyance. "So it is news to the pair of you, is it, that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?"

"Yes sir," Harry answered, an innocent look plastered on his face. Chris rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in defeat,

"Alright, alright, you got me. But honestly Minister, the _'I Want to Marry Chris Halliwell and have his babies'_ society is my way of giving back to my fans … "

"Halliwell!" McGonagall snapped, obviously fed up with the manner in which Chris was dealing with the situation. "Enough! For once behave like a responsible adult!" she ordered. Chris gave a mocking bow, which included a salute.

"Sir, yes, sir," he said with a sarcastic smile.

"Minister," Umbridge began in her girlish tone, which made Chris roll his eyes "Minister, as you know only tonight Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by the more _trustworthy_ students."

"Trustworthy here meaning ass-kissing little suck up who like snitching on their generation," Chris scowled. He turned to Harry, "I woulda blown the Slytherins outta the water with the amount of snitching they do," he pointed out. Harry nodded, considering this point momentarily.

"If I might continue," Umbridge glared at the two. "I had intended to catch those in the meeting red-handed, though it appears that they were forewarned of my arrival as when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction," she stopped here, giving a small fake cough to make a show of clearing her throat. "That, however, doesn't matter as I have all their names here," she said, holding up the list of names that had been taken long ago on that very first meeting in Hogsmede, and that had been hanging on the wall of the Room of Requirement where anyone could take it, Chris realised with a jolt. "Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement to see if they had left anything behind. You see we _required_ evidence, and the room provided it." She handed the list over to Fudge with a self satisfied smirk. "When I saw these two's names on the list, I knew what we were dealing with."

"Excellent," Fudge smiled, "quite excellent Dolores. And … by thunder … See what they've named themselves?" Fudge asked quietly, looking up at Dumbledore who was still sitting behind his desk, quietly. " _Dumbledore's_ _Army._ "

Chris turned to Harry. "I said it was a fuckin' stupid name," he muttered lowly. Harry shot him a look.

"Well, the game is up. Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius - or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?" Dumbledore said simply. Chris saw McGonagall and Kingsley exchange brief confused looks, fear in their faces.

"Statement?" Fudge asked, momentarily thrown it appeared. "What - I don't -?"

"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius. Not Potter's Army. _Dumbledore's Army._ "

Chris closed his eyes, groaning inaudibly, "you _idiot_."

"But - but - You?" Fudge whispered, understanding blazing in his face. "You organised this?"

"I did," Dumbledore nodded, behaving far too politely for the situation he was in Chris thought.

"You recruited these students for - for your army?" Dumbledore nodded, giving some half-assed thought up on the spot explanation which had glaring holes for anyone who cared to poke at them. Obviously Fudge didn't, for he was now crowing in joy, demanding to know if his lackey Chris recognised as being a Weasley got all of that. Which he had.

"Kiss ass," Chris spat at the Weasley, who was no where near as cool as the twins where. Chris highly suspected that even icckle Ronniekins was cooler than this particular Weasley. The confrontation continued, though Chris was sure it couldn't be called a confrontation if both parties were agreeing with each other, and one of said parties looked to be amusing themselves with the situation. Eventually it was decided that Dumbledore would go with the Ministry officials, but he didn't seem to approve of this, especially not when they decided to use force.

"So, you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you Dumbledore?" Fudge sneered.

"Merlin's beard, no. Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to," Dumbledore replied very politely, still smiling at the Minister.

"He will not be single-handed!" McGonagall said loudly. Chris couldn't help but smile at her loyalty. She'd need it especially with what he knew what still to come, Chris thought, remembering what he had seen that night.

"Oh yes he will Minerva! Hogwarts needs you!" Dumbledore said sharply.

"Dam right!" Chris interjected. "Only teacher in this dump worth listening to!" Both Harry and McGonagall gave Chris odd looks at this. "What?" he asked. "I can appreciate a good teacher when I see one. Doesn't mean I'll do any work for them, but I can appreciate them."

"Enough of this rubbish! Dawlish Shacklebolt! _Take him_!" Fudge commanded, pulling out his own wand. There was a streak of silver light, which flashed around room, and a noise like a gunshot, the sound of which caused Chris to drop to the floor instinctively.

"Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," he heard McGonagall answer, dragging Harry up off the ground. There was no movement made towards Chris, so he lay still, listening carefully to the conversation. Dumbledore was leaving it appeared, though to were he wouldn't say. Chris made a mental note to remember this; if his theories were correct Dumbledore would double his personal protection on the wards, making infiltration into the castle next to impossible. So, in Chris' eyes at least, that was next to just a bit unlikely. There was a muttering between McGonagall and Dumbledore, a muttering which lead to eyes staring directly at him. He forced himself to remain as still as possible, realising that he was still under suspicion on Dumbledore's part.

Typical really, no one ever trusted him anymore. It wasn't like he hadn't risked being killed very painfully by his older brother to reveal inner circle secrets to this lot - to be fair, he had done the same for Wyatt - so he allowed himself to feel annoyed at not being trusted.

There was a flash of fire and the next thing Chris knew he was being pulled up by Shacklebolt, who shot him a kindly smile, listening to Fudge ranting, "Where is he? _Where is he_?" There was a rush, as Dawlish and Umbridge stumbled over themselves trying to provide the Minister with explanations. They ran out of the room, thinking that Dumbledore had simply walked out of the school. Chris didn't bother to point out that Disapparation wasn't the only way of leaving the school, and that if he could orb out easily, it was reasonable to think that Dumbledore might have been able to magically create a similar method of travel.

"You'd better get off to bed," Fudge gave a dismissive nod towards Harry and Chris, the latter giving a sarcastic bow before leaving the room.

"I'm guessing you know what happened," Harry said softly, not looking at Chris.

"You guess right Wonder Boy," Chris replied, equally as softly. "And with Dumbledore gone, who d'ya think they're gonna get to play leader of the school?" he questioned, seeing Harry ducked his head, showing in a look that he knew exactly who would become the new head teacher. "You know what Potter," Chris said, pausing in the Entrance Hall to look outside at the night sky, which was slowly growing darker. "We've got on helluva ride ahead of us, you gotta be ready to play the game."

"What game?" Harry asked, his tone sounding tired, but with a tinge of fear. Chris paused, giving the matter serious consideration.

"Chess," he decided, nodding slightly.

"Chess?" Harry's voice held a tone of unbelieving, not understanding why chess would be the game ahead of them.

"To win in chess you must be patient, bold and calculating, but above all, you must be prepared to sacrifice," Chris told him. Harry paused for a few minutes, staring at Chris in silence.

"You're not talking about chess are you?" he asked eventually, keeping his eyes on Chris, perhaps fearing what the boy could or would do.

"No, I'm not," Chris agreed, "I'm talking about war."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, chapter 23 of Tear it Up. You know this fic has been going for nearly a year? On the 13th of this month we will be officially one year old. I think I might type a related special one shot to celebrate. Chris' story before he came to Hogwarts … Or at least, the parts that I don't mind people knowing about that. Or Wyatt's climb to power. In fact, you tell me - what should I write a one shot one relating to TiU that will be posted on this fic's first birthday?
> 
> So, in general chapter news this chapter is … well it's definitely lighter than some we've had previously. Oh, and as sort of a special treat - all those wondering about Craig Lupin and Luperca Black please pay attention in this chapter as I sort of typed in one of my main reasons for including them.
> 
> I think that's all I need to say … on we go with the show!

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

 _Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced  
Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree  
Number Twenty-eight. _

_Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic_

The notice had gone up all around the school overnight, with no explanation as to how, within a few short hours of its happening, every single student in Hogwarts School seemed to know that Dumbledore had managed to overcome two highly trained Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, not to mention his Junior Assistant, to escape without a scratch on him. Chris stood in the Gryffindor Common Room, at the side opposite to that of the notice board, staring directly at the new decree, quieter than he had ever been seen to be before. He could feel the fire burning within him, his anger bubbling up, but he fought to control it. No matter how much fun he would have burning Umbitch to a tiny little pile of ash, it wouldn't do him, or his plans, any good in the long run. He continued to glare at the decree, wondering on which plan formulating in his mind would be the best to follow at this moment in time, when, out of the corner of his eye, a familiar mass of hair came into view, causing him to smirk. Oh, he had the perfect plan, and he would have fun with it too.

"Sweets," he called, attracting Luperca Black's attention, as she turned and rolled her eyes at him. Obviously she still had problems with the name he was calling her by. It was no big problem to him, and that wasn't exactly the matter at hand, so he ignored her reaction, instead moving forward towards the notice board. "Get the twins, Jordan, and Wereboy and meet me at the back of the library in ten minutes," he instructed her.

"And why should I do that?" she asked, giving him a confused look, something as which only caused Chris' smirk to grow. He turned to the notice board, ripping the decree down, before turning to face Luperca, raising the hand he held the decree in and making sure she saw it bursting into flames before dropping the ashes on the floor.

"Because you know I'm gonna make Umbitch burn," he replied to her, his smirk being mirrored by her own.

 **XXX**

"So gentlemen," a loud cough made Chris nod his head, correcting his speech, "and lady. As you might have noticed Hogwarts has been taken over by a rather overgrown, and overfed little toad," he said, walking over to the table where five of his fellow Gryffindors sat. "Now, I'm not one for school pride, in fact I'd prefer if this place burned to the ground, but I ain't gonna stand by and watch Umbitch take over."

"So what do you plan to do Môn captain?" Fred and George asked, leaning forward eagerly, their eyes glimmering with hope. It was no secret to the school that the Weasley twins considered Chris Halliwell a greater prankster than them, all for leaving Draco Malfoy gift wrapped in the Gryffindor common room, something that, no matter how tempting it had been, they had never quite managed to do themselves, for fear of being expelled. But this odd teen had managed it, and had won the life long admiration of the twins, who were slowly beginning to work out that there was more to Chris than what he was letting be shown. It was odd, and they couldn't explain it, but if you asked them they would describe it was though they were seeing a mask, and they couldn't help but wonder why this strange, weird, and, as much of a cliché the phrase way, quite frankly magical boy was so determined to keep his mask in place.

"Oh anarchy, chaos, and a little of that thing called rock'n'roll, you know, the usual," Chris said in a bored tone of voice. This was pretty routine for him, or at least, it had been when he was still a student at Magic School. He had often found himself overshadowed by Wyatt, always being told that he had to try harder, and always reminded that his brother had managed to grasp this particular theory in one lesson. It had irritated him to an extent he didn't even know was possible, so he had retaliated in the only way he knew: he pulled pranks.

"We could get expelled," Lee Jordan voiced the concern that everyone excluding Chris was secretly thinking. It wasn't that they didn't want to get their own back on Umbridge, truth be told nothing could make them happier, but none really wanted to be expelled from Hogwarts. After all, despite what the general student body thought of them - as well as some of the teachers, they weren't an unintelligent lot, there were different ways of showing intelligence after all. They all, well, nearly all, knew what was going on in the current climate, and all could hazard strong guesses as to what was coming. Neither of which made them eager to leave Hogwarts any sooner than they had to.

"We could get expelled for looking at her the wrong way," the soft voice of Craig spoke up, his eyes not moving from the point on the ground that he was staring at fixatedly. "I'm more likely to be expelled just for being born a werewolf," he added, a melancholy tone finding its way into his voice. "And if I have to go, I'd rather go with a bang," he shrugged lightly. "You lot can do what you want, but whatever his plan is, I'm in," he said, "I've got nothing to lose."

"If Craig's in, I'm in," Luperca nodded. "She hates me anyway."

"Brother mine, do they think that we would refrain from joining in on what would prove to be a most splendiferous outing in which we could prove ourselves as great as those legendary four who came before us?" Fred asked, turning to his twin with a sly grin fixed on his face. George's face was a perfect mirrored reflection of his brother's, titling his head to the side slightly as if giving the matter serious thought.

"Dear brother of mine, it does seem that what you have said appears to be the case," George responded. "We must rectify this situation post haste," he finished, nodding. Fred nodded his own agreement and they both turned out to face Chris, who had been sitting watching their exchange with an amused smirk on his face.

"We're in," they said. The five turned to look at Lee, the only one of the group who hadn't agreed to Chris' still to be revealed plan. He frowned, deep in thought, giving the matter serious consideration.

"I'm no where near as good as those two," he told Chris, pointing to the twins with a weak smile on his face. Chris shrugged. "And I'll most likely get found out within the first few days," he warned. Again, Chris shrugged. Lee frowned, still in consideration. "… Oh who am I trying to kid," he said eventually, grinning widely, "'Course I'm in!"

"Fantastic," Chris said, smirking at his new team, all of whom had eager expressions on their faces, wondering just what the plan was exactly. "Now, my little hellions, our plan is to spread anarchy, but while we are doing this, we will be adding to this," he orbed a sheet of parchment into his hand. On the top of this parchment the words 'While at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I must not…' were printed, and underneath were a list of things, all with the name 'Chris Halliwell' place beside them. "This is my … well for now let's call it my contribution to this school," he told them, placing the parchment down on the table for them to read. George, being the quickest reader amongst them, finished first, and looked up at Chris with a raised eyebrow

"And you haven't been expelled … why?" he asked, curious. Chris gave a shrug.

"Dumbledork won't let me leave this ruin," he answered honestly. "He doesn't trust me so he wants me somewhere where he can keep his stupid twinkling eyes beadily on me," he tried to explain, before pausing and frowning slightly. "Mind you, I don't really trust him either so that might just add to his stubbornness in not letting me damn well leave."

"So we create more of this list," Fred sounded out, showing his expertise in changing the subject. "Do we use our own special brand of mayhem or do you have something more … exploding in mind?" he asked. Chris gave a smirk, turning to look at one of the bookcases, his first two fingers on his right hand making a come here gesture towards one of the books. It floated over to the table with ease, laying flat and proclaiming its title to the world.

"' _The Almanac of Anarchy and Unruly Spells_ ,'" Chris told them, a gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there a moment previously. The group seemed to sizzle with excitement, each knowing of the Almanac but having believed it only a legend. They leaned forward as one, listening to the instructions of their new commander, putting in their own suggestions with excited whispers. If one thing could be taken away to sum up this meeting, it would be only this:

Hogwarts would never be the same again, for it one in for one hell of a ride

 **XXX**

The Easter holidays came oddly quickly, though Chris put it down to having too much fun disturbing Umbridge's rule of the school. The only disappointment that came with the quick arrival of the holidays, was that they seemed to finish even faster, and within a few days a batch a pamphlets, leaflets, and notices concerning the various different magical careers awaiting on Hogwarts student upon their graduation, as well as yet another notice decorating the notice board.

 _CAREERS ADVICE_

 _All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their  
Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss  
their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below._

"I don't really get the wizarding world," Chris remarked, leaning back on his chair, studying a leaflet which was advertising a career in the glamorous field of curse breaking for Gringrotts Bank. "Does no one go to college or anything normal like that?" he asked the two he was sitting with, frowning slightly at one of the images on the leaflet, somehow knowing that the wand motions the wizard was making were completely wrong if he was casting the counter curse Chris was pretty sure he was casting.

"Well, yeah, of course there's magical colleges," Craig answered, shrugging slightly. "It's that compared to the other schools of magic in the UK, a diploma from Hogwarts is like a degree," he attempted to explain. Chris looked up confused.

"I thought Hogwarts was the only magic academy in this little island Wereboy," he said, frowning in slight confusion as he dropped the leaflet back on to the table, uninterested. What did he really care about a career? They way things were going he was pretty sure he wouldn't be lucky enough to see 19, let alone go on and have a proper career.

"Nah, there's smaller schools all over the place," Luperca shrugged, "gotta pay to go to those ones though," she added.

"So the posh twits pay for their kiddies to go to a private school." Chris said, understanding now. "Fuckin' idiots," he added in a mutter. It was odd, the changes that had appeared since Umbridge had taken over the school. It was her takeover that had forced Chris to become more sociable. He still refrained from making friends with the Golden Trio, and it had seemed as though he had used Craig and Luperca to form his own version of the infamous Trio. The three blended together quite well, and it could have been argued that Craig and Luperca only existed to act as the other two for Chris' trio. Whatever the truth may be, they were accepted with little problem, and it was becoming normal to see the other two joining Chris and Luna on their wandering of the tables at meal times. "That's cool I guess, so what colleges are there?" Chris asked, feeling only slightly interested.

Craig frowned. "Well, the most popular one is Weirdsister College," he said. "It's a part of Cambridge University and it's steeped in tradition," he continued, pausing to think. "I think the last good Minister of Magic was educated there, before they started just going with someone who could ease the public fears."

"…Huh," Chris said, thinking it over. As far as it went, if by some rare piece of luck he did manage to surviving the coming horrors, that maybe, just a maybe, he might like to go on to a university or a college, to learn more about magic. It seemed like an interesting prospect.

"Alright milord," Fred crowed, making his way over to sit in one of the empty seats,, George following him. "We have a new plan to cause general disruption and chaos," he grinned. " And it helps someone defy the toad-cow at the same time," he added, which made Chris nod his assent without even knowing what the idea was.

"Don't you want to know the idea milord?" George asked, titling his head to look at Chris, who was beginning to wonder just why the twins had taken to calling him 'milord,' but decided it was better not to know. He may find the twins cool, but he wasn't ready yet to delve into the workings of their minds. He didn't know if he could stand the chaos.

"No, no, it's fine," Chris said, "oddly enough I find myself trusting you two when it comes to chaos," he remarked, a smirk crawling on to his face. "Make sure it's something that will cause Umbitch to run around like a headless chicken won't you?"

 **XXX**

On Monday, at roughly a quarter to two in the afternoon, Chris orbed himself into the empty seat in front of McGonagall's desk, resting his feet on said desk and smirking over at his Head of House. "Alright teach?" he asked, his relaxation a complete contrast to the majority of his over-stressed year group. "M'here for my careers interview thing," he told her, "though I keep thinking it's redundant 'cause I'm pretty sure I'll be dead before I actually need a career and …"

"Enough, Halliwell," McGonagall said sharply, cutting into Chris' ramblings with ease. He fell silent, studying her face slightly. There was a look of restraining oneself in there, as if she was deliberately shutting him up. He turned slightly, feeling someone's eyes boring into his back, and his face fell on seeing Umbridge there.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" he asked angrily. McGonagall gave a soft tut.

"Language Halliwell, you are not on a Quidditch Pitch," she admonished him. "And Professor Umbridge has chosen, in her new role as Headmistress of this school, to sit in on certain careers interviews," she explained, "and since she is Headmistress you cannot say anything," she said quickly, having learned that if you gave him the chance, Chris would argue about the very laws of magic himself. "So, have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after leaving Hogwarts?"

"If I don't get my ass handed to me by the Source you mean?" he asked, blinking and leaning back into the chair, musing over the subject for a moment or two. "Haven't really thought about it all that much," he admitted slowly, before, quick as a flash, dropping his feet on to the ground and leaning over the desk, making eye contact with McGonagall, a sly smirk on his face. "I could go with what I'm good at and be ridiculously good looking for a living, don't you think so Minnie?"

McGonagall wasn't fazed, but unfortunately Umbridge was not immune to Chris' teasing, and exploded, in her own unique way. "Excuse me, Mr Halliwell dear, but this is your very future we are speaking about, I don't see how you can joke about it in such a flippant manner."

"Well considering I'm mostly likely gonna die before I'm old enough to legally drink," Chris began, rolling his eyes, "I don't really think there's a problem about considering my future. Do you … _Toadie_?" Chris' eyes flashed slightly, as Umbridge stumbled back, the events during the summer coming to life once more in her minds eye. McGonagall looked between the two, confused at why a simple name would cause such fear in their new headmistress.

"I think perhaps you should go now Halliwell, and take 1000 lines with you, 'I must not scare my Headmistress,'" she instructed. Chris stood, rolling his eyes once more.

"Yeah, I'll get them to you next year maybe," he told her, waving his hand vaguely , sauntering out of her office and wandering straight into Cole's office. The demon in question didn't look up from his paperwork, continuing to work on whatever it was he was working on.

"And how did the careers interview go?" he asked, finally looking up.

"I think I accidentally made Umbitch click on to the fact that I'm the kid she tried to kill during the summer holidays," Chris said, frowning slightly. He wasn't sure if he did the right thing or not. After all, letting Umbridge know was one thing, but he was at her mercy while he was still at Hogwarts, and it wasn't as if he could simply call Wyatt in if it got to a point where he couldn't handle it. For some reason, though he wasn't sure why, reminding Umbridge that she had almost killed him reminded Chris that he wasn't all that powerful, just lucky at times.

"…Ah," Cole said, fidgeting with his pen. "You know he'll want to know," he said, looking at the boy with concern in his eyes.

"I know," Chris sighed, looking down at the floor of the office. "But seriously Cole, I don't think even Wyatt would believe me if I said I fear for my own life," he said, not looking up. "I mean I'm a smart assed little shit mouthed punk who gives as good as he gets. No, gives better than he gets." Chris paused, stretching out in his chair, and titling his head back so he was looking at the ceiling. "No one would believe I'm terrified."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go, another chapter and I kinda hate to say this but we're getting nearer and nearer towards the end of Tear It Up. And nothing's been resolved has it? I can tell you honestly: nah, nothing has been resolved.. Well, worry not my loyal readers, for Tear It Up is only story one in a fic trilogy! The next part - covering sixth year and entitled Stir It Up will come along not long after the last chapter of this fic (which will be … one or two chapter's time … we'll see.)
> 
> So my standard disclaimer, as always, applies and it IS a tribute to Good Omens later on in the chapter, which is a brilliant story and I had to tribute in some way. (Oh yes - interesting information that was meant to come up in the chapter involving Wyatt's birthday but was deleted due to it looking wrong; the 'London' Chris got Wyatt's present from was London Below.)
> 
> Oh yes, sorry if this chapter is a little on the short side - I've unfortunately had a large influx of homework leading to not a decrease in my down time. So, very sorry and I promise I'll try to do better with the next chapter

The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom quickly became infamous amongst the student population of Hogwarts. Chris, unfortunately, had not witness this event due to reasons of having what Cole mentally classed as a miniature panic attack/nervous breakdown, at least, in a very Chris manner. He had however been forewarned by the twins on what was likely to happen. His only real regret about the incident was not being there to take a picture of the look on Umbridge's face when she saw it happening as Chris was positive it would have been one of the most hilarious things that he would have ever seen. He had to hand it to the twins though, they had made sure that no one was likely to forget them any time soon. They had left no instructions to remove the swamp that filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing, which any of the better teachers could have removed, but like Chris they preferred watching Umbridge struggle. The two broom shaped holes in the door to her office didn't help matters all that much either.

Of course, all of this had lead to a rise in the number of students vying for the positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief at Hogwarts. Lee, though no one knew it was Lee, had been levitating Nifflers into Umbridge's office, which tore the place apart looking for anything shiny. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so often in the corridors that students often performed the Bubble-Head Charm on themselves before leaving lessons, just to ensure that they had a fresh supply of air. Eventually it became obvious amongst the students that the position went solely to Chris, though shared by his 'team', as the students of Hogwarts had taking to calling them. To earn his position Chris had tie-dyed all the owls; took a magic eight ball to Divination; and was frequently heard referring to himself in conversation as the New Dark Lord. He had stolen Professor Flitwick's wand, using his telekinesis to hold it just out of his reach as the small Professor attempt to get it back - though for this one Flitwick had been impressed by Chris' command of his power, and had award Gryffindor with five house points. There was also a memorable occasion where he had come to dinner dressed in a set of Death Eater robes, yelling 'Long Live Lord Voldemort' at the top of his voice, adding that the Dark Lord would banish all Toad Teachers. Her had done many other things, most of which just seemed to occur to him on the spot, which, as all the students agreed, was a talent that only belonged to the Troublemaker-in-Chief. Especially one who was brave enough to openly mock Umbridge in front of the members of the press.

However, despite all of this, Chris was still slightly worried about the dangerous glint that appeared in Umbridge's eyes when he was brought to her office. Though he was almost completely sure that she wouldn't start anything in school, he had no way of being completely sure of this matter. In his worry, he had, in his opinion, stupidly written to Wyatt, asking if there was anyway he could get out of the school sooner rather than later. He had sent this letter the night Umbridge had, in his words, 'clicked on' to who he was, and a few weeks had passed before there was any response to it. On the last weekend in May, on the day of the Inter-House Quidditch Cup Final, there was a response.

The letter appeared on the table in a puff of flames, causing a few of the giggling girls, who happened to be members of Chris' fan club, to jump slightly with shock. Luna looked up slightly, as did Craig and Lu - who had taken to joining Chris and Luna on their wandering of the tables in their roles as the other two members of Chris' Trio - before looking back down again. It was known amongst them, though they weren't quite sure how it was known, that to ask Chris about his mail, or to expect him to read it in front of them, was simply not done. No matter how much they really wanted to know about Chris' mail. They stood, having finished their breakfast, and moved to join the throngs of students headed down to the Quidditch pitch. They didn't ask Chris if he wanted to join them, all three knowing his feelings on the sport, and instead left him to finish his own breakfast, which he seemed to be taking his time over this morning.

When the Great Hall was clear, Chris picked up the plain white envelope, slitting it open with a nearby knife, and pulling out the contents inside.

 _Chris,_

 _I would consider calling you an idiot at this point in time, but it is the least of my concerns, the main of which being your welfare. Unfortunately it would be too suspicious to remove you from the school, and would no doubt cause the stupid Ministry woman to send someone searching for you. Which we obviously can't have. So, I am truly sorry for this brother, but you will have to remain at the school._

 _I cannot lie and say and I did not see this possibility occurring in your time at Hogwarts, but I had, rather stupidly on my half, hoped that it would not occur, and that if it did it would be at a point when the Ministry Toad would be unable to move against us. If I did not know better, brother, I would be lead to assume that you revealed your identity on purpose. But of course, as I have said before, even the suggestion that you would attempt to betray me is absurd to the extreme._

 _Do not worry about the Ministry Toad. It is my new plan to send you the best form of protection that money can purchase. I believe you've been wanting one for some time now … or at least, you've been whining to me that you do._

 _Your brother,_

 _Lord Wyatt_

Chris frowned at the letter, but couldn't help but feel that tiny bit relived. He should have known that Wyatt wouldn't have left him defenceless. But … he scowled slightly at his ability to be annoyingly cryptic at times. Something he had been wanting for some time now … Did that mean he was getting his own ninja army? Or perhaps a Terminator style gun? He had made a lot of loud claims in Wyatt's presence to things he would like, each one more stupid than the one previously.

There was an odd snuffling noise coming from the vicinity of his legs, which caused Chris to look down, curious as to the source of the noise. Sitting at his feet, was a large grey mutt, looking up at Chris with a patience that didn't seem to suit the dog. The mutt's eyes glowed an unnatural red, and its claws were also a blood red, as Chris noticed. "Huh … a hellhound," he muttered softly, watching as the dog cocked its head to the side, waiting. "You'll need a name," he said rather redundantly, pausing to think up a name. His mind raced, recalling a book he had read in which a character got a hellhound for a pet. Grinning widely he turned to face his new pet. "I'll call you Dog."

 **XXX**

The arrival of Dog had caused yet another stirring in the student-teacher dichotomy of Hogwarts. Dog had proved practically impossible to pull from Chris' side, much to Umbridge's horror. It was amusing for the students to see their Headmistress being chased down the corridors by a threateningly large dog which lead to even those who weren't in Gryffindor house knowing, before they were told, that Dog was Chris' pet. Oddly enough, the Gryffindors' had taken to the new presence with great enthusiasm, all taking a part in attempting to train Dog - something which Dog himself found very confusing, but put up with since it meant he got given treats (he had taken a liking to Every Flavour Beans). Many of the teachers had taken an indifferent view of Dog, only remarking that his presence was not to mean that the excuse 'Dog ate my homework,' was going to become accepted. McGonagall's reaction was quite surprising, as she would 'fuss' Dog in her own manner during class, allowing him to lie lazily in front of her desk. Cole, however, on hearing Dog's name, had rolled his eyes, remarking that he shouldn't have given Chris a copy of Good Omens for his birthday.

But life had moved on from Dog's arrival, albeit slightly slower than normally, and was now progressing normally. As a result of this, Chris had found himself becoming deeply bored yet again, and wishing that something, if anything, would happen just to break from the boring monotonous routine that Hogwarts life had the high tendency to become.

Oh how he would wish later that he hadn't made such a wish

 **XXX**

The time leading up to the OWLS was fraught with studying and panicking, with various students proclaiming loudly that they were never going to pass so they might as well leave school now. Chris' potion business flourished, especially since compared to the other 'study aids' that were being confiscated by the perfects, his actually did what they said they would, and even a few perfects themselves had bought one of his special mixes, just in order to clear their head long enough to allow them to work out a more efficient study plan which allowed them - compared to their original - more free time without skimping on the amount of studying they needed to do.

Chris, on his part, wasn't actually that worried about the exams, though this was largely due to the fact that he did not actually need to do them. At the beginning of the month, he had been taken out of his classes for a day, which he found amusing considering he hardly attended any of them unless he really was _that_ bored, and set a number of written papers, which he had bluffed his way through rather spectacularly. He was informed that it was Ministry protocol to ensure that all students were tested in some form, and that he had passed his. Needless to say, Umbridge was not happy at this, as the only she could legally expel Chris, for reasons she could not quite understand, was if his grades were simply not up to the standard of a fifth year student looking to go on and participate in NEWT level classes. Therefore, as he had passed his exams, Merlin only knew how, Umbridge had to pursue another method in an attempt to remove Chris from the school.

It was about a week before the exams were due to start when Chris, with Dog accompanying him, was called to Umbridge's office. To the best of his knowledge, he hadn't done anything that she could connect with him, so he was almost completely sure that he wasn't going to receive another set of lines on this visit. Truth be told, Umbridge had given up on giving Chris lines to punish him as he never wrote what she commanded him to, and was now permanently bearing abusive scars towards her. Scars that if the Minister were to see … she didn't like to muse on what the results might be.

"So what dya want from me this time?" Chris drawled, walking into the room after kicking the door open, he always did like to make an entrance when it came to Umbridge. "Or is this just one of those random callings, 'cause, let's face it, who doesn't wanna see my face," he added with a self satisfied smirk, sitting on the chair in front of her desk, with Dog laying down beside it. Umbridge stared at the animal, who bared its teeth at her, before giving one of her fake soft coughs, looking up at Chris with what she felt was a kindly look.

"Chris, dear, lately it's become apparent to all of the teachers in the school that, well, you just don't seem to be happy here," she said in a sickly sweet tone that made Chris feel sick. He snorted loudly, thinking her words to be an understatement, and his mind racing, trying to work out just where it was that she was planning to take that train of thought. "Well, then, dear, we've been trying to find a way to make you more comfortable in the school, but it just doesn't seem to be working, so I owled your father and he's agreed to come today and we can discuss transferring you back to the Magic School," she finished, beaming cruelly at him.

" … What?" Chris asked, only hearing the blood rushing to his ears, and his heart thumping painfully loudly in his chest. How the hell could Umbridge owl Leo and bring him here? He couldn't be here! He would ruin everything! Not to mention, out of all the people Chris would rather never see again in his life, Leo was pretty much at the top of the list. "How fuckin' dare you!" he yelled at her, jumping of out his chair. "He's got no fuckin' part in my life. I don't need that bastard!"

"Considering you're still a minor Chris, I would think you need me more than you'd like to admit," Leo's voice came from the doorway of the room, causing Chris to freeze in his spot. Dog, noticing his master's discomfort, stood, and growled threateningly towards Leo. For his part, Leo simply ignored Dog, walking past him and sitting down in Chris' now empty seat. "I must admit, I was surprised to receive your owl Professor Umbridge, considering that … " he paused, looking at Chris dispassionately, " … my son refuses to even reply to any letters I send him."

"Yeah, well, you know the reason for that don't ya Leo," Chris muttered darkly, sliding down against a wall in the room, finding himself sitting on the floor without quite knowing how he got there.

"I must say Mr Halliwell, I am pleased you responded," Umbridge said with a smile, before giving what was quite obviously a fake sob. "I have tried and tried to reach Chris and help him fit in but he seems to reject any and all help given to him," there was another loud fake sob. "I just do not know what to do." Chris gave a look of disgust, but wasn't surprised to see Leo falling for the act. The man always seemed to believe the best in people.

"Don't worry Professor, he's always been like that," he said with a kind smile. "A disappointment to the family, hanging around with demons and warlocks," he added, shooting a dangerous glare at Chris. "Quite frankly, he's a lost cause," he finished, looking directly as Chris, daring him to contradict him, and missing Umbridge's look of triumphant. "And if you don't want him in this school anymore, well, I'll sign the papers to remove him." Chris' eyes widened, and his mouth opened.

"Why … if you think that best, Mr Halliwell," Umbridge said in an uncertain tone of voice, though nothing could disguise the look of pure delight that twinkled in her eyes. "I have the paperwork right here."

"You can't do this to me," Chris said, his voice oddly soft despite his anger. He was looking at Leo with an expression that didn't seem to sit well on his face, though this was possibly because of who he was using it on, or possibly because he hadn't used it in a long while. "Seriously Leo, you can't do this."

"I can and I will," Leo responded simply, looking through the parchments he had been handed, checking to make sure all of the details were correct. Chris sighed, and Dog looked up, confused at what he was meant to do. Had it been a physical attack, the answer was simple: attack the one who was threatening his master, but emotional? It was beyond the abilities of a simple Hellhound.

"Leo … come on, don't do this to me," Chris asked, walking over to the man with a determination in his eyes. Leo didn't respond to Chris, busying himself with continuing to read. Umbridge gave a soft laugh, making Chris glare venomously at her.

"Halliwell, just sit down and let your father deal with the matter," she advised him, "and you'll be somewhere else before the day ends," she smirked, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, and with the way in which events were turning out.

"Leo," Chris said again, to no affect. "Leo, please," Chris was beginning to think that Leo had put him on mute, something which Chris had the habit of doing himself. "Leo," he tried again, getting no response once more. He sighed, feeling slightly desperate. As much as he hated the place, he couldn't leave. If he left Hogwarts he wouldn't be able to complete his deal with the Elders, and more importantly he couldn't complete his own mission. "Leo, don't do this to me," he begged, "please … dad."

There was a long pause, as Leo turned to stare at Chris in slight confusion, as if seeing something he had never seen before. Chris shifted slightly, looking at the ground, his discomfort coming back, wishing that he wasn't always such a kid when it came to dealing with his father. He could hear the door opening, but kept his gaze on the floor, reluctant to look up.

"And here's me thinking that for once Chris was getting a good report," Cole commented dryly. "Though I should have known a sentence with the words 'Chris' 'good report' in it was a lie," he added moving into the room and taking the papers from Leo's hands. "And I'll be having those, thanks."

"Why?" Leo asked, turning to face Cole. "I'm his father, so I should take to do with this stuff," he pointed out, reasonably on his half. Cole nodded, taking Leo's words in.

"True, true," he said, "but, on my return to this plane, your bosses set it up so I was made Chris' legal guardian," he told both Leo and Umbridge, pulling a copy of the legal document which proved his statement to be true out of his pocket and showing it to them. "Which sort of means that any of this stuff needs to go through me and not," he added pointedly, glaring at Umbridge, "done behind my back, or hadn't you worked out the reason why everyone else deferred to me when it came to the pest here?"

"M'not a pest," Chris muttered, "I'm a skilled troublemaker." Cole rolled his eyes. "But, oh legal guardian, does this mean I can get the fuck outta this room now?" he asked, slipping back into his usual front with the greatest of ease.

"Pretty much yeah," Cole responded with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I need to have a word with the Headmistress here, about dealing with you without consulting me," he said, shooting another glare at Umbridge, who had been stunned into silence with Cole's revelation. "Leo …" Cole added, turning to look at the whitelighter. Chris looked up at his father, who stood silently.

"I can see I'm not needed here," he said. "Good luck with him Cole, you've got someone who can't be saved," he warned, orbing out of the room. Chris' shoulders feel slightly. Cole looked, questioning him silently. Chris paused, not knowing how to respond, patting Dog as a way of stalling.

" … It's just been a long day Cole," he said finally, shrugging his shoulders and starting to leave the room, Dog following behind him. "A long, long, day."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are getting nearer and nearer to the end of Tear it Up. Which is part of the reason I feel this chapter is so short, I'm trying to not rush to the end, as although I do still have the other two parts of this trilogy to come, I have a fondness for this particular one, as it was the first ever long multi chaptered fic that I've stuck with long enough to get to a proper 'ending' of it. … That possibly makes no sense to you, but it sorta does to me. But, yeah, apologises if this chapter does seem a little on the shortish side to you.
> 
> As always, my standard disclaimer applies.

Chris looked around himself, slight confusion etched into his features. One minute he had been lying in his relatively comfortable bed, absent-mindedly scratching Dog behind his ears, the next he was in a place he could only really describe as white space. _'_ _Or the Nowhere Places_ ,' a taunting voice in his mind recalled the name. The Nowhere Places were somewhere which Chris had no desire to visit again, having been trapped there for a short period after a miscast spell when he was 10. He looked around again, knowing from experience that he would see nothing, but couldn't help but want to see something.

"You haven't been doing as we asked you, young Halliwell," a pompous voice bellowed out, echoing all around Chris. His lip curled, almost prettily, as he looked around, his hands clenching into loose fists. "Why have you not been obeying us?"

"On protecting the Boy Wonder?" Chris scoffed loudly, "if you haven't noticed that kid's got more enemies than I have!" he yelled, trying to work out which one was speaking to him. "And not to mention, I have had slight concerns of my own to take care of, or were you never planning on tellin' me you made my mom into my friend's whitelighter?"

There was a long and guilty pause, as the voice faltered on a few difference sentences. "It is none of your business on what we chose to do," it decided finally, causing Chris to roll his eyes.

"When its about my family it damn well is my business!" he snapped, glaring into the white mist which surrounded him, waiting for a response of some sort. Nothing came. Chris sighed. "I've never got a straight answer outta you lot all my life, why the hell would you start giving me one now," he muttered. "An' if you don't plan to answer me, send me back!" he bellowed, his hatred of the Nowhere Places outgrowing his ability to remain reasonably calm in front of the Elders. He waited for a few more minutes, growing bored rather quickly. "Ah, fuck it," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Hear my words, hear my cries, send me to the other side. From the Nowhere Place I wish to flee, send me where I wanna … be?" he finished with a shrug as golden orbs surrounded him. When they dissolved away he found himself sitting back on his bed in the dorm room.

"… Didn't expect that to work," he told Dog, who looked up rather lazily on Chris' reappearance. Chris lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, almost with a hint of concern in his features. "We're getting near what Tommy's planned, ain't we Dog?" he mused out loud, gaining a small ruff in return from Dog. "Hm," was Chris' only response. He looked out the window, seeing the sky darkening, and feeling a slight rumbling in his stomach. "Come on Dog, let's go get food," he said, wandering out of the dorm room.

 **XXX**

During the exam periods, Chris found himself wandering around the castle, pretty much bored out of his mind. He also found himself banned from the library, partly due to it being used for classes whose teachers were scheduled to watch the exams, and partly due to the fact that Dog tended to drool over the books. So it was in his boredom that he managed to discover the secret passages in and out of the school. He made a mental note of these places as well as making a mental note to come back and investigate some of them a little closer when it would be less likely that someone would notice his absent. It was due to Chris' non participation in the OWLs, unlike the rest of his year, that he was the first to notice that something was decidedly odd on the night of the Astronomy exam. For one, it was decidedly too quiet.

At eleven o'clock, he joined the rest in walking towards the Tower, having decided that he would simply go stand outside for a while during this exam. Dog followed, enjoying the fussing he received from some the female fifth years, who kept cooing over his sweet nature. Chris rolled his eyes, wondering what these girls would do should they see Dog in his natural form. Smirking and giving a sarcastic wave to those going up for their exam, Chris quickly made his way towards the front doors, relishing the feel of the cold air when he orbed outside, having not minded walking while inside the castle - it gave Dog the exercise he needed after all, but drew the line when it came to attempting moving open the heavy doors. He sat himself in one of the darker shadows surrounding the front wall of the ancient castle, making sure to hide himself should a professor look outside, watching as the hellhound moved around, studying their surroundings with a hawk-like eye.

He felt it had been roughly 40 minutes since the exam started when he heard the heavy doors open. Shifting himself further backwards into the dark corner, Chris watched carefully, seeing roughly half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. "Well that's unusual," he muttered softly, hearing a soft growl come from Dog. Though it was true that Dog was unusually docile for a Hellhound, he still did sense danger, but Chris had never once heard his 'pet' growl before. Perhaps, Chris mused lightly, it was due to who was so obviously leading the ground; Umbridge did have a rather distinctive walk. He heard a somewhat distant knock, which echoed throughout the grounds, and was followed almost immediately by frantic barking from what had to be a large dog. Looking out across the grounds, Chris could see lights on in Hagrid's windows, and the group who had marched towards Hagrid's home, were now silhouetted against them. The door opened creakily, and the six entered, each sharply defined, closing the door behind them, leaving an almost uneasy silence. Chris watched in a fixed manner, the lights from the windows flickering across the lawn as people moved around inside the cabin, as though they were trying to hide what they were doing from any prying eyes which may fall upon the hut.

Chris' gaze didn't move from the hut, and he wasn't all that surprised when a roar echoed out from the cabin and through the darkness, and Chris wouldn't be surprised if it could be heard at the very tip of the Astronomy Tower. A loud BANG came from the cabin, and Chris' head rose slightly, still watching with only a little interest in what might happen. The door to Hagrid's home had been burst open, and the light from inside flooded out, clearing showing Hagrid's massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists. It appeared to Chris that the six people were attempting to cast stunners at the half-giant, obviously not paying attention to the fact that Hagrid was a half giant. "Be reasonable, Hagrid," a familiar voice called out, causing Chris to give out a soft laugh. That guy always seemed to pull the short straw.

"Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!" Hagrid roared in fury, Fang leaping at the wizards surrounding his master, in an attempt to defend him. A Stunning Spell hit him and he fell heavily to the ground, causing Hagrid to let out another howl of fury. Dog growled at this, moving as if to pounce, but Chris placed a hand on his back, still watching the scene, though a look of almost perverse glee.

"Wait, let's see how this'll play out," he whispered calmingly to the hellhound, who gave a huff of annoyance. He jumped slightly, as he heard the doors to the castle being flung open once more, watching as the person who had come through them sprinted towards the battle which was taking place outside Hagrid's cabin.

"How dare you!" The voice yelled, as the figure ran. "How _dare_ you! Leave him alone! _Alone,_ I say!" It was amazing how, for someone quite small really, loudly and clearly McGonagall's voice echoed out across the grounds of Hogwarts. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such - " Four stunners were shot at McGonagall and at the halfway point between the castle and the cabin they collided with her, making her glow an eerie red for a moment. The force of the stunners lifted her right off of her feet, throwing her backwards until she landed hard on her back, without a single other movement.

"COWARDS! RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT - AN' THAT - " Hagrid bellowed. Chris had ran out to the prone figure of McGonagall, reaching her quicker than he would have thought, checking quickly for a pulse. He gave a small smirk on finding one, somehow never doubting that he wouldn't, McGonagall was a tough old bird after all. He looked up, noticing that while four of the attackers remaining focusing on Hagrid, two ran over to face him, obviously fearing him as a dangerous threat.

They were right to.

"You hurt my teacher," Chris said calmly, looking up at them with an even expression. "The only teacher in this damn place that's actually worth anything," he added thoughtfully. The two stared silently at him, their grips on their wands tightening. Chris looked back down at McGonagall before looking back up at the two. "I'm sorry guys, but I can't stand and let you hurt the only teacher I'll actually do the work for," he said with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I'm afraid I'll have to kill you now," he smirked, getting a small chuckle from the pair, who believed that he was joking. Chris' smirk grew, and the pair's chuckles slowly diminished, as they realised, with that sudden strike of fear, that this boy was most undoubtedly not joking. Raising both his hands, the smirk never disappearing, Chris flicked both his hands rounds, clenching them into fists, effecting grabbing the pairs throats, slowly choking them.

"Halliwell!" Umbridge's horrified screech reached Chris' ears all too soon for his liking, and scowling more than slightly, he released his telekinetic grip on the two unnamed Aurors, who dropped to the ground, gasping for any air they could pull in. "Halliwell! You … You … " she stuttered, unable to say anything, but glaring at him with a hint of obvious pride in her face, as though she had caught him red-handed.

"I acted on the defence of my Head of House, _Professor_ ," he sneered at her, "who was so cruelly struck down by your idiotic goons." Umbridge glared silently at him, both of them knowing that they had solid arguments against each other. They were at a stalemate, and were both aware and in hate of it. "And now, if you move your toadie self, I'm gonna try to get hold of a Healer or something, 'cause tough as she is, I don't think anyone's got a good chance of surviving four Stunners in the chest," Chris smirked at Umbridge.

"But, of course Mr Halliwell, I do care what happens to poor Professor McGonagall," Umbridge said through gritted teeth and a forced smile. Chris returned the forced smile with a highly sarcastic one of his own, kneeling back down and placing a hand on McGonagall's shoulder, orbing them out of the grounds of Hogwarts, straight into St Mungo's, where a Healer immediately saw to the injuries Professor McGonagall had sustained, recognising the older woman from her own days at Hogwarts - though this Healer, Healer Moon, had been a Ravenclaw. Chris found himself hanging about the corridors for a few hours, not really wanting to return to the school until he had made sure that McGonagall was going to survive past this incident at least.

"You're the boy who came in with Professor McGonagall aren't you?" Healer Moon had returned to the waiting area where Chris had been sitting. He stood on hearing her voice, walking over to her swiftly. She gave a soft smile. "Don't worry, if there's one thing we can be sure of with Professor McGonagall, it's that she'll bow out on her terms, and her terms alone." Chris gave out a soft chuckle, somewhat glad to know that it wasn't only him who had realised this fact. Healer Moon gave Chris a rather matronly look, "would you like to see her? She is awake you know," she said softly. Chris looked around, making sure no-one was watching him, before quickly nodding.

 **XXX**

At nearly four in the morning Chris orbed back into the Gryffindor common, sitting down on the empty couch, feeling unusually tired. Dog looked up from his spot in front of the fire, giving a small ruff of greeting. Chris leaned back, looking up at the ceiling of the common room, not glancing round when he heard footsteps on the stairs. "Loitering isn't your style Wonder Boy," he muttered slightly. Harry came down, sitting in the armchair nearest the fire.

"So, she's okay?" Harry enquired. Chris nodded, causing Harry to nod himself. "Didn't think you'd be back if she wasn't.," he admitted, with a small shrug. There was a silence between the two. "What were you doing to those guys?" he asked, curious. Chris gave a small smirk, but didn't answer. Harry rolled his eyes. "You could try the conversation thing Halliwell."

"I do," Chris responded quickly. "But unfortunately Dog's not talking right now, and it's such a pain to converse with those of sub-normal intelligence." The end of Chris' sentence found Chris ducking to avoid a cushion hitting him. "Now, now, now, little Wonder Boy … " Chris began. Harry interrupted him.

"I know, I know, violence doesn't solve anything."

"Course it does," Chris smirked, "it solves the question of who's the better fighter," Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, don't you have an exam in the afternoon?" Chris said, frowning slightly confused. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah … suppose I should get some sleep," he muttered, standing up and moving over to the stairs. He muttered a night to Chris, wandering up the stairs. Dog looked at the retreating figure, turning to look at Chris with a questioning glance.

"He's an annoying martyr," Chris admitted with a shrug. "But I don't think he should die just 'cause Tommy doesn't like him," he said, scratching the hellhound behind the ears when he came over. "He's got no chance, and I don't find that all that fair. Everything's a choice Dog … and Wonder Kid doesn't seem to realise he hasn't got one."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter, as we get closer and closer to the end of Tear It Up. It may seem like I'm prolonging this slightly - which in a way is technically true - but I'm putting it down to have three weeks of exams in real life, with roughly six days between each exam. Though the studying of psychology does help with Chris … Anyway, so here's the latest chapter and I will have to apologise to those who may not be fans of Craig Lupin and Luperca Black; as well as those who do like them. It seems like lately, although I've explain a few of the reasons for introducing them into the story (to form Chris' own version of the Golden Trio [reasons for this to come later]) I haven't explained anything about them. I promise you an explanation WILL come … I'm just not entirely sure when. If you wanna suggest your own ideas about them, please do, and I'll let you know if you're anywhere near the mark if you like.
> 
> Also, my apologies to those who fine this chapter a little on the short side - as I've said I've got three major exams coming up, and little time to study in. When they're over I'm sure I'll be able to pull about a longer chapter.
> 
> As always, standard disclaimer applies. On we go with the show!

"Halliwell!" Harry's voice broke through the large crowd of students, making Chris turn to face him in almost amusement. Harry's face was white; and if Chris were to judge by the faces of Ron and Hermione, who were dutifully following their leader as always, he would be able to summarise that something which would lead to Great Peril (a trademark of the Boy Wonder himself) had happened, or was about to happen. "Voldemort's got Sirius."

" … What?" Chris blinked, staring blankly for moment, before his common sense kicked in, making him grab Harry's arm, and pull him into a nearby empty classroom. "Okay, first I'm gonna go with _what_ , then I'm going to venture into the lines of 'how the hell do you know this' and then I think I'll return to the land of what," he said to him, drawing blank looks from all of the trio. Chris groaned. "Just tell me the details Wonder Boy."

"He's in this room, in the Department of Mysteries," Harry said. "It's filled with shelves covered in these little glass balls, they're at the end of row ninety-seven … he's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there … he's torturing him … says he'll end by killing him!" Harry's voice shook as he spoke, and it was likely that the kid's knees were shaking as well. "How're we going to get there?" Harry asked. Chris' eyebrow rose slightly, questioning his logic.

"Hang on, g-get there?" Ron said, looking between the two, confused as to how that particular conclusion had been reached.

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!"

"But - Harry … " Ron protested weakly.

"What? _What?_ " Harry's voice betrayed his lack of understanding. He simply couldn't see why his friends were gaping at him as though he were asking them to do the impossible, when, strictly speaking, it was Chris he was asking to do the impossible.

"Harry," Hermione spoke in a frightened voice, "er … how … how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realising he was there?" she asked. Chris snorted.

"It's way too easily done Beautiful," he commented lightly, causing Hermione's already white face to pale even further. "And when you add the fact that to the Ministry, Voldie ain't even back yet," he shrugged, "it's amazing just how stupid they can be."

"And the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been - " Harry began, jumping in with a mind to back up Chris' argument.

"You've never been there Harry, you've dream about the place. That's all," Hermione said quietly, facing the ground as though she were ashamed to speak out against her friend. Harry took a step closer to her.

"They're not normal dreams!" he shouted in her face. "How d'you explain Ron's then, what was that all about, how come I knew what had happened to him?"

"He's got a point," Ron commented quietly.

"Having a point doesn't give him the right to scream in his friend's face," Chris commented louder. Harry opened his mouth to speak again. "And stop it right now Wonder Boy. I don't doubt that you've seen Sirius, I'm pretty sure you have, I'm just wondering if anyone's given time to have the thought that this might be a trap?" Hermione gave out a little gasp, nodding slightly at Chris, who returned her nod with a nod of his own. Good to see that one member of the Trio has their head screwed on the right way.

"IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN - " Harry began to roar. Chris groaned once more.

"WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP?" He roared back, silencing Harry effectively. Ron and Hermione exchanged silent glances, each quickly taking a step backwards from Chris, staring at him in slight fear, having never once heard him raise his voice before. It was amazing how different he looked, the angrier he got.

"What are you yelling about?" Ginny asked, standing at the doorway with Luna, looking curiously at the four.

"Never you mind," Harry said roughly, glaring at Chris. Ginny raised her eyebrows, obviously not in the least bit amused by Harry's response.

"There's no need to take that tone with me, I was only wondering whether I could help," she told him quite coolly, affecting a stance of righteous indignation.

"Well you can't"

"You're being rather rude, you know," Luna said serenely. Harry swore, and Chris kicked him for it, going over to Luna.

"You can help Lunar, you and the romance junkie," he said. "Get my minions in on it too," he added. "They're getting lazy lately," he explained with a small shrug. Harry and Ron gave him confused look, causing him to roll his eyes. "Well obviously we're gonna need to establish whether or not Scooby really has left Headquarters aren't we?" he said

"Yes!" Hermione agreed, beaming brightly at Chris, showing that she had been on the same train of thought as him. Harry, however, did not seem to agree with this piece of logical thinking.

"I've told you,"

"Harry, I'm begging you please!" Hermione pleaded with him. "Please, let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London. If we find out he's not there, then I swear I won't try to stop you. I'll come, I'll d-do whatever it takes to try and save him."

"Nice sentiments Beautiful," Chris smirked, causing glares from both Harry and Ron, though most likely for different reasons. "Now, since that's the plan - "

"How? How're we going to check?" Harry demanded. Chris rolled his eyes, briefly wondering why it was that Tommy was so focused on this kid. From what he was seeing here, Chris was all for just leaving him be, sooner or later he do himself in.

"We'll use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him," Hermione said in far too kind a voice for Chris' tastes, but looking terrified at the very thought of what it was she was proposing. "We'll draw Umbridge away again but we need lookouts … " she trailed off, allowing Chris to pick up from where she left off.

"And that's were me, my minions, Lunar, and romance junkie here come in," he said quickly. "Now, obviously we can't use our normal grand theatrics, haven't had nearly enough time to prepare, but I think we can think something up."

 **XXX**

That was how, less than ten minutes later, Chris stood lazily at one end of the long corridor with his two minions, so named as he had grown bored of their names. For their part, it was fair to say that neither Craig nor Luperca took Chris' ways to be anything other than Chris' ways. When joining Chris' little team, they had both been well warned by both Cole and Luna that they wouldn't exactly be treated as humans beings, leading Craig to grin in a manner that can only be described as wolfishly and point out that technically, he wasn't entirely human. Luperca had simply shrugged, pointing out that were the wolf boy went, she went. Truth be told, Chris was entirely happy with the arrangement, having vocalised loudly that Ginny was a bad influence on Luna, though for her credit, the youngest Weasley quickly shot back that even if that was the case, she was still a better influence than Chris himself.

He quickly decided that, if she proved herself in this little task, Ginny would make a somewhat adequate replacement for her older brothers in his little team of anarchic troublemakers.

"I wouldn't go down there if I were you," Chris called lazily to a rather small Hufflepuff second year, who had been about to go down the very corridor they were trying to keep empty. The Hufflepuff boy looked up at Chris with suspicion, having learned quickly on entering Hogwarts that the older students who weren't in his own House weren't to be trusted. So much of inter-House unity within the school.

"Why not?" he asked, looking amongst the three - who were fondly known as the Anti-Golden Trio amongst the students of Hogwarts - with a hesitant look on his face.

"Because if you do, I'm afraid I'll be forced to set you on fire," Chris said in all seriousness. The Hufflepuff blinked, as if trying to work out if Chris was lying to him. It was obvious as he stood silently in front of the three that he was going through some great inner turmoil, obviously debating the pros and cons of listening to Chris. Truth be told, Chris threatened to set people on fire on a daily basis, so that particular threat had really lost the malice it once held, and no one really believed him anymore when he threatened them with it. Well, for the most part they didn't believe him, Chris did have a tendency to follow through with the threat on the odd occasion. It really depended on what type of mood he was in, to tell the truth.

"If it helps your decision any," Craig added in a cheerful and ever so polite tone of voice, "I'll probably wolf out and eat you if you try going down this corridor," he smiled kindly at the second year who, quite rightly, began to tremble, turning and walking as quickly as he could in the other direction. Luperca watched his retreat, turning to her head to face her friend slightly.

"Nice one," she remarked, before turning to Chris. "I told you we shoulda just let off a load of Dungbombs," she said, rolling her eyes slightly at him. Chris leaned his head back, smirking at the comment.

"And the fact that we used up the last of them yesterday?" he pointed out, causing Luperca to scowl lightly, falling silent, and drawing a small snicker from Craig, before he fell silent as well. The three remained in quite companionable silence for some time, only really speaking when someone tried to enter the corridor. They had been doing this for a period of time when Chris became aware of hearing heavy footsteps coming towards them from behind.

"Fina-fucking-ly Wonder Boy," Chris said in a tone that suggested more exasperation than he actually felt, "was beginning to think you didn't … " he paused, having turned round and come face to face with Umbridge, accompanied by the Slytherin goons who had become members of her Inquisitorial Squad. "Oh … fuck," he muttered lightly, finding that said goons had Luna and Ginny, and for some reason Neville, trapped in headlocks which looked deeply uncomfortable. "Minions drop your weapons," he told Craig and Luperca, staring straight up at Umbridge with unbridled hate. "We'll come quietly."

"I'll get you for this, _dearest cousin_ ," Luperca hissed rather pointlessly at Draco, who merely smirked in return to the comment. Chris glared at the white-blonde Slytherin, remaining effectively calm as he used a Binding Spell on his hands.

"And if she doesn't," he warned him quietly, "I will."

 **XXX**

As Umbridge left the office with Harry and Hermione, who had really been quick on her feet, playing into Umbridge's fears that Dumbledore had been building a secret weapon, and acting out her distress in such a way that Chris would have found himself believing her if he didn't know better, Chris kept an eye on the door, watching until he could be sure that Umbridge would not overhear anything that went on in the room. He was very aware that all the eyes in the room were on him, something in waiting, though most of the Slytherins were in fear. Except Malfoy that is, who really hadn't learnt anything.

"Look here Halliwell, I told you helping the mad people would end up bad for you," he sneered, throwing hateful glances towards Luna. "But no, you jut had to - argh!" he yelled, clutching his nose in pain, as Chris had simply thrown his head back, hitting said nose squarely. There was a few yells in the room, as a scuffle started out between the captured Gryffindors, Chris and Luna, and the Slytherins. It had been a help to Chris' side that Dog, wondering where his master was and what was keeping him with his dinner, had shimmered into the room looking for him, and on seeing the fight, immediately joined in, biting Millicent - who had been aiming a curse at Chris - on her leg, the sharp pain causing her to drop her wand.

After a short while the scuffle ended, with the previous captors now tied in their own ropes, and unconscious, thanks to a few quickly muttered spells from Chris, though Luna had pointed out it was obvious to tell when Chris was casting a spell, as his eyes gained a gold tint to them. Chris frowned, not quite understanding what it was she meant, and as a result, brushing it off without much thought to the matter. "We need to find Wonder Boy now," he told the group. For some reason that none of them could explain, they had found themselves looking to Chris for orders on what to do anyway, Ron mentally reasoned that it was simply because he was a Warren Witch, and everyone knew of the experience members of the Warren line of witches had with this sort of situation, not to mention the legacy that were Chris' mother and aunts. It was only common sense that they look to him for guidance.

"What's this about anyway?" Neville asked, looking between Ron and Chris, having worked out that they two at least knew what was going on. Craig stepped forward, frowning.

"Now that Neville mentions it," he said, "you never did say to me and Lu what the matter was Chris, you just demanded our presence."

"No change there," Luperca muttered softly. Ron left out a soft groan, obviously not wanting to have to go through the whole explanation again. Ginny frowned, a slight look of concern etched on her face, and, though he would never admit this for it was out of character for him, Chris found his mind blank for a reason as to why Ginny would be concerned that Luperca didn't know about the situation. At least, his mind was blank for a moment.

"…Shit," he muttered softly, pushing his hair out of his face, trying to think up a quick way to get the situation told that would lead to minimal yelling. "Okay, so it sorta goes like this. Wonder Boy had a weird vision quest thing during the exam that told him Snake Lover's got Scooby captured at the Department of Mysteries and we gotta go make with the saving 'cause otherwise," Chris shrugged slightly, "dog stew anyone?"

There was silence in the room, that was until Neville, slight pale-faced, turned to Chris. "You couldn't have chosen any other visual image to end that sentence on?" he asked rather boldly for him. Chris gave a short laugh, clapping Neville on the shoulder, noting the sudden silence from his minions.

" … He's got my Dad?" Luperca's voice was soft, as though suffering from some great shock. She blinked twice, forcing back tears, and then stood tall. "Then why the hell are we still here?" Chris had to hand it to the founder of Gryffindor, he really knew which how to install 'brave idiots' tendency in his students. Chris inclined his head slightly, a sarcastic way of accepting her words, and walked out of the room, knowing that the other six would follow him without question

 **XXX**

"I think there are nine of us, actually," Luna counted calmly, taking in the Golden Trio, herself, Ginny, as well as Chris' trio, and Neville.

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" Harry said angrily, though this was mostly due to the time that they were wasting. Luperca was in a similar state. Chris rolled his eyes.

"Then I'll make this simple for ya Wonder Boy," he drawled, every bit the picture of ease in the anxious faces of the rest of them. "As the only one of the assembled horde here who is actually a member of the great and glorious Order, well, at least the only one who's currently here," he said, wondering just where it was Cole had disappeared to. He wasn't worried, the demon could more than take care of himself, and he was sure to turn up again soon. "You sorta have to do as I say," Harry glared furiously at Chris for this, having realised what direction his speech was going in. "An' I say if they wanna go and get themselves get killed, let 'em. Way I figure, the only two who really need to go are you and Sweets, but it's good to have canon fodder around."

There was a long pause, as Harry continued to glare furiously at Chris, who remained impassive, eyebrow raised lazily as if to challenge Harry into contradicting his word.

"Fine," Harry said slowly, "but unless we can get hold of more Thestrals …" Ginny gave a soft cough, interrupting him quickly.

"They'll come," she told him. "You and Hermione are both covered in blood, and we know Hagrid lures Thestrals using raw meat," she said coolly. Chris frowned, playing dumb for a moment.

"We knew that?" he asked, avoiding looking at Luna, who had begun to giggle gently. She had the sole honour of being the only student in Hogwarts who actually understood Chris, or more to the point, Chris' sense of humour, which did have a tendency to be morbid at times.

"Chris," Hermione sighed, though there was a spark in her eyes at being the one with more knowledge again, something which had been slightly lacking since Chris showed up. He often wondered what would happen if he revealed that he bluffed his way through a lot of classes. "We were taught that in the first Care of Magical Creatures class this year."

"…Was I there?"

"You were," Hermione told him. "You had an argument with Professor Umbridge about the students she was selecting to ask questions, stating that it was better to ask the American if he could understand the teacher, rather than the Snakes in a class that was obviously biased towards the Lions."

Chris blinked. "Good memory. And oh look, seven more Thestrals," he grinned, gaining yet another glare. "Just enough for you lot to fly away. I'll join you later."

"…Chris?" Luna questioned, studying him slightly. He gave a short bow to her.

"I don't do so well flying Lunar," he explained. "I'll orb along later, but I should probably make contact with the other Order members, just in case," he added, shrugging lightly. Luperca tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn and face her.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, which threw Chris for a moment. He was used to sarcasm, and took hatred in his stride, giving back as good as was thrown to him. Sincerity was something new entirely. He watched as the seven departed, waving slightly until they were specks in the sky. A cruel smirk crawled over his face, as he turned in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"Oh, I'll be there," he muttered softly. "But first I have a Toad to deal with."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm ... I'm not quite sure what to say here ... it'll become obvious later in the chapter why. Standard disclaimer applies. So ... yeah ...

"Here Toadie, Toadie, Toadie," Chris called softly under his breath, making his way deeper into the dark of the forest. He held an orb in his hand, holding it up so as to light his way, which helped to stop him from shuddering. He _really_ didn't like the dark, and considering the reputation the Forbidden Forest had, he felt that for once, his dislike was justified. He mentally noted the use of the word dislike, as he often claimed loudly to fear nothing, or that he had seen his worst fears come true. This was not entirely a lie, and, as a consequence, was something which had helped when dealing with Barbas before he had lost his sanity. The forest managed to seem both calmer and deadly at night, with Chris silently reasoning to himself that perhaps it was both; depending on what it was you had come to the forest for.

He shook his head quickly, clearing those sorts of disturbing thoughts from his mind. When on his way to enact vengeance, the last thing he needed was to imagine the trees coming alive to stop him. Though it did make him begin to wonder whose side the trees in this forest were actually on, and if it was entirely possible that being part whitelighter was enough to fool them into thinking he was already dead, if they did decide to attack him. It was at this point he began to realise that on the way to what he knew was going to end up as sort form of duel, his thought process began to ramble, causing a lot of confusion and geekery. Which he was quite partial to at times, but not in the middle of a dark forest.

"Where the hell is a Toad when you try to find her," Chris muttered to himself, finding himself in a clearing of the forest, and looking about him. It was at times like these he could see the point in flying on broomsticks, as he was getting bored of walking, and though it was true that his preferred method of travel was orbing, there was an itching sensation at the back of his head, putting him off the idea of orbing to wherever Umbridge was the minute said idea entered his mind. He supposed that this was part of the magic of this forest, though he doubted that the forest itself was evil. Well, he hoped it wasn't evil. He turned his head skywards, squinting through the many branches which formed a roof over his head, trying to make out if it was still daytime. Unfortunately, the branches were too thick to allow him to work it out properly. "Okay, so situation review Halliwell," he muttered to himself. "You've gotten yourself lost in a dark forest, which is possibly evil, looking for a Toad, and did I mention it was dark?" Chris sighed, looking around himself once more, trying to work out what direction he should head in next.

A scream echoed throughout the forest, causing Chris' head to snap in the direction the noise came from. "And I thank you Toadie," he grinned, running forward in that direction. He ended up in another clearing, this one filled with centaurs, all of which had bows and arrows - Chris took a minute to muse on how very Green Arrow it all seemed (he was, of course, familiar with Robin Hood, he just felt that Ollie Queen had more _style_ ) - all of which were pointed directly at Umbridge. "What's this then?" he asked the centaurs, breathing heavily due to his running - he really should look into doing something more energetic with his free time. The centaurs all turned to glare at him as one, which was more than a little unnerving, causing Chris to take a step backwards, keeping his eyes on them warily. "Throwing a party an' not inviting me? Shame on you."

"This is not your battle, Wise One," a silver-haired centaur, with a grave voice, said to Chris. "The human female deeply insulted our species, claiming us the playthings of humans. Our law demands vengeance." Chris took a moment to consider this, carefully noting the wording of the statement. He smirked.

"Then on behalf of the students of Hogwarts I demand that you allow me to take our vengeance against this bitch whose been torturing us all damn year," Chris said, raising his chin in challenge to the centaur, who stared back unflinchingly. His fist clenched slightly, and he raised it, making sure that the white of the scaring was visible to the centaurs. "I'm not the only one who has been through her torture," he told him in a low voice, "but I am the only one who can take our vengeance without causing more pain to myself."

"Wise One, it is not in your nature to seek vengeance," the centaur sounded concerned. Chris scowled.

"I'm only half whitelighter," he informed him. "The whitelighter part of me doesn't control every aspect of my being, you know." He paused, thinking something over. "And quit with the calling me Wise One, I ain't an Elder."

"That was not what I was speaking of Wise One," the centaur told him, causing Chris to frown up at him. "But perhaps the times have changed," he mused, looking upwards towards the slowly darkening sky. "The stars have sung your return, but with a note of warning," he looked down and smiled at Chris, who was feeling altogether completely confused at this point. "If you are looking for vengeance Wise One, we can only let you exact it," there was a pause, before the centaur spoke again. "I can only hope, Wise One, that your return does mean that the balance shall be restored." The centaur turned, giving a hand gesture towards the rest of the herd, who slowly backed off, not once lowering their weapons. "We will, of course, deal with the giant that fouls our forest."

"…You do that," Chris remarked, watching as the centaurs moved from the clearing, disappearing out of sight. "I will never get those guys," he muttered, his mind lingering on what the silver haired centaur had said to him. Stares singing his return? That made no sense, the was the first time he had been at Hogwarts, and what was with the constant calling him 'Wise One'? Obviously they knew something he didn't, and it irritated him. Sighing slightly, he cleared his mind, adopting a persona that would allow him to see what it was he had to do. When he felt as though this persona was securely in place, he turned, at last, to face Umbridge, who had managed to gather herself together, and was standing, her wand pointing directly at Chris' heart, despite the distance between the pair.

"I'll do it if I have to, Halliwell," she warned him, her voice devoid of the usual girlish nature it took on in the castle. "I know your true nature, no matter what you have those fools thinking," she snapped at him, the hand holding the wand wavering slightly. Chris gave a cold laugh.

"Put the toy down Delores," he said, tilting his head to the side, looking at her through a detached stare, "we both know it won't do you any good here."

"I almost killed you once," she reminded her, glee evident in her voice. Chris scowled.

"You're proud at almost killing a - at the time - 15 year old?" he asked her. Umbridge faltered at this, and Chris smirked. "Don't tell me, you'd forgotten that I'm only 16?" He laughed bitterly. "And if I was older, you wouldn't feel as guilty as you do now, I bet." Umbridge's resolve grew at this, as she straighten up, and pointed her wand steadily once more. Chris rolled his eyes, laying his hand out flat. "Wand," he called, the wand orbing into his hand. "Now, let's _chat._ "

Umbridge stumbled backwards, finding herself worried by his casual nature. Despite the fact that she was used to it by now, what with her actually teaching him on the odd occasion he showed up to her class, there was something unnerving about it in this situation. "How is it that a Halliwell comes to work for the side of dark magic?" she asked. Chris shrugged lightly.

"Nothing left to lose," was his simple reply.

"And how is it that you were commanding Death Eaters?" Umbridge asked, watching him carefully, looking for a moment in which she could regain her wand. "I highly doubt that You-Know-Who would trust a child to lead his followers," she remarked, revealing the secret which the Ministry had kept. Of course they were aware that Voldemort was back, or more to the point, the right people were aware he was back, and fed Cornelius the lies they wanted him to believe. Umbridge stared at him, coming to the conclusion herself when he didn't answer her. "The Source placed you in charge?"

"Beginning of the summer, end of last year's school year, he got readings of this mass of power rising," Chris said, looking at the ground, twirling her wand in his hand. "The Seer provided him with the knowledge he needed," he let out a small laugh, one which sounded unusually high pitched, and manic. "Amazing how quickly people will sign up to a higher power if they think it'll aid their cause," he remarked, "even offered up his firstborn as a plaything for the Source." Umbridge took this in silently, continuing to watch Chris, looking for that opportune moment to take back her wand.

"We're not so different, are we Halliwell?" she quizzed him. He looked up, vaguely interested. "We both want the same thing…"

"No, we really don't," Chris shot at her quickly. "Because I don't even know what I want anymore," he told her. "I've got nothing left to make me want anything. 'Course, that means I've got no reservations either, and no qualms." There was a pause, as Chris drew himself up to his full height - he had grown a few inches since the Christmas holidays - and threw Umbridge's wand back to her. "And now, now is when you pay."

"Pay?" The question was barely out of her mouth when Umbridge found herself flung backwards, her back slamming against a thick tree trunk, and sliding to the ground in pain. She looked up, rushing to pull herself together, an ebb of fear running through her. Chris stood, his hand outstretched in a way that suggested no effort had been put into the action, his face clean of any emotions. "What are you?"

"Someone you shouldn't have fucked with."

On those words Umbridge found herself being flung to the other side of the clearing, this time her stomach landing against the tree trunk, groaning loudly in pain. Pushing herself up on to her hands, she turned slightly, raising her wand, wincing at the pain which coursed through her body. "Stupefy!"

Chris hit the ground quickly when the spell was thrown his way, having noticed in many a DA session that the ground seemed to be the safest place to be. He thrust his hand forward again, knocking the wand from her hand. He really shouldn't have given it back to her, but that nagging streak of honour in him screamed at him not to fight her when she had no way of fighting back. He stood quickly, walking over to her. Obviously the impacts against the tree trunks had been stronger than he had originally thought they might be, as she still lay on the ground, too painful to move.

He stood over her, glaring down at her. "You had all of this coming, from the minute you threw that curse at me last summer," he told her. She didn't response, breathing heavily as she clutched at her stomach. "Might have broken a couple of ribs," he said, using his foot to roll her over so that she was facing him. He raised his left hand, allowing it to be engulfed in flame. "You had this coming," he said again, raising his hand to strike. Umbridge closed her eyes, waiting for the killing blow.

It never came.

After a few minutes, she slowly opened her eyes, finding herself alone in the forest, her wand lying within arms distance.

 **XXX**

Chris arrived at the Ministry when the battle was in full swing, with Dog following behind him lazily. He looked around, and began wandering through the flinging spells at his leisure. It was interesting to note that both side swerved to avoid hitting him full on, one he understood why, the other he didn't. He wasn't surprised to see members of the Order of the Phoenix already there, he had highly suspected that Severus would have contacted them straight off, in case Wonder Boy did die, and it came out that he knew the reason why the kid was at the Ministry in the first place.

"You know Dog," Chris spoke to his pet Hellhound, who looked up attentively at what his master had to say. "I often wonder why I bother showing up to these things, there's never really anyone fun for me to fight with," he paused, "or anyone worth fighting."

"You will regret those words, young Halliwell," a booming voice called to him, making Chris inwardly jump. Luckily he outwardly managed to keep control, looking up with a disinterested look upon his face. The other occupants of the room., both Death Eater and Order member, turned as one, knowing that this voice belonged to some powerful entity. "Or are you filled with the arrogance that so many of your family possessed?"

"It's justified arrogance," Chris retorted, still managing to look bored with the situation. "You gonna show yourself, or are you lacking in the self esteem needed to back up all your pretty little threats?" There was a pause.

"I will face you Halliwell, and you will die," the voice continued to echo, as flames burst up from the floor. When they died down, there stood a tall figure, clothed in a heavy, covering black robe. "Halliwell," it growled.

"Source-y," Chris nodded. The room was silent. "So we fighting or are you just gonna stand there in your clashing-with-everything robes?" As he spoke, an energy ball was flung towards him. Chris, rather like he had earlier in the night, dropped as quickly as he could to the floor. This time he wasn't quite quick enough, and the energy ball got him on the shoulder, causing him to let out a loud grunt of pain. At this the room, which had been silent, exploded with noise, as all the duels restarted. Chris looked up, watching as the Source moved his head only a fraction of an inch - unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. Both raised their right hands in the air, making the same gesture. The entire room froze.

"You were too slow there," Wyatt chided Chris, lowering the hood on his cloak. Chris threw him a scathing look.

"I didn't realise you were gonna use that strong a ball," he shot back, standing up and touching his shoulder gingerly. "Man, right through the leather," he muttered, wincing slightly as he touched the blood stained area. His coat was sticking into the wound, and would be hell to try to separate. "Tommy's idea was it? For this little shindig?"

"He wished to retrieve a prophecy," Wyatt said, "I allowed him a small team to go about this mission," a scowl appeared on Wyatt's face, making him seem more like the teenager he actually was, rather than the all powerful Source. "He didn't tell me that he had planted a dream in Potter's mind," he remarked, looking around the room with interest. He stopped, squinting as he looked at one person, who was frozen mid laugh. "Isn't that Sirius Black?"

Chris looked over. "So it is," he said. "Who woulda thunk?" Wyatt frowned, turning to face his younger brother.

"You told me he wasn't a member of this Order," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Have you been lying to me Christopher?" There was a heavy silence, broken only by Dog's growls - he didn't trust Wyatt's tone, and despite the fact that Wyatt was more powerful, he had a loyalty to his master, especially since he had taken to feeding him juicy pieces of meat from the House tables.

"Course I have," Chris said, not even seeming worried about being caught out. Wyatt's glare grew, almost to a murderous extent. Chris continued to inspect his wound, gently attempting to pull some of the leather away from it. "If I had told you the truth about him from day one, it woulda caused Tommy to attack too quickly, forcing you out into the public's eye long before you had planned," he said casually. "Ow," he muttered, feeling pain at what he was doing.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Let me see it," he commanded, walking over to inspect the wound. "I've been telling you that you should move quicker, this just proves my point," he told Chris. "I think some instructions in unarmed combat might do you good," he paused, thinking. "And the lying, you claim it was to my benefit?"

"Wy, you're my brother," Chris said. "I'm not gonna do anything that would lead to you getting hurt." There was silence between the two brothers, as Wyatt continued to inspect the wound he caused.

"Nothing major," he concluded, "a simple healing salve will take care of it. Though your arm will out of use for a few days," he shrugged.

"I know the effects of an energy ball Wy," Chris muttered, annoyed at being talked down to in that manner.

"And I am grateful for your forethought," Wyatt added quickly, forcing the words out as though they were attempting to choke him. Chris blinked, surprised at this spoken kindness from Wyatt, he hadn't heard him say he was grateful for anything in a long while. Wyatt coughed slightly, looking around. "I think I shall take my leave now," he told Chris, flaming out and unfreezing the room. Chris blinked, blinded for a moment by the bright light of the flames, blinking again as a bright streak of light filled the room, hitting Sirius squarely on the chest.

Chris watched, as Sirius fall, in morbid slow motion, body curved in a graceful arc, sinking backwards through the ragged veil hanging from an arch behind him. There was a look of mingled fear and surprise clear on Sirius face as he fell, disappearing behind the veil. All was silent.

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, jumping forward, only to be grabbed by Lupin, who was struggling to hold the fighting teenager back. Chris stepped forward, stopping slightly, and turning in the other direction. He looked up, seeing his mini… seeing Luperca standing there.

"…Dad…?"


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, erm, here we are. The last chapter of Tear it Up. It's taken us a while to get here - over a year. And I'll be honest, absolutely no plot points are tied up in this chapter. But I have a very logical reason for this, which I shall share with you all now. Tear it Up is only part one in a " ... it Up" series, with part two being entitled "Stir it Up," and will be set during the sixth year of Hogwarts. Hopefully I'll have the first chapter of it up soon. But yes, last chapter, it's been a long journey to get here and to those who've stuck with me, thank you! Actually to all my readers thank you, I love reading through the reviews as it's great to know I might have entertained someone, just that little bit. So ... erm ... yeah ... here we go ... last chapter, allons-y!

_**HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS** _

' _ **In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this county and is once more active.**_

" _ **It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord - well, you know who I mean - is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who had shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the Dementors are currently taking direction from Lord - Thingy.**_

" _ **We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month."**_

 _**The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more".** _

_**Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening. It is rumoured that they were accompanied by the Source of All Evil, but investigation into this rumours has proved inconclusive.** _

_**Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for comment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the "Boy Who Lived" -** _

"Knew they'd pull Wonder Boy into it," Chris said, not looking up. Cole folded over the paper, placing it on his desk with the headline facing out at him. "Big fuckin' celebrity that he is an' all that jazz," Chris muttered, picking slightly at the bandage which held his arm up. True to Wyatt's prediction, his left arm had been useless for the past few days, and was only slowly beginning to regain feeling. Madam Pomfrey had fretted over the burn, having not seen anything like it before in her career at Hogwarts. On mentioning this Chris had told her that it was best to simply treat it as she would a normal burn, as he was planning on going down to the dungeons and mixing up the correct healing potion anyway. She had stared at this, wondering out loud why it was that a half whitelighter - such as him - could not simply self heal. The glare she received in return had her shooing Chris out of the Hospital Wing faster than she had ever done with anyone who needed treatment.

Chris wasn't particularly bothered by it, even though it turned out he couldn't mix the potion one handed and would simply have to let the wound heal over, a new scar was really no big deal.

"Sounds like I missed a lot," Cole said, "and in a way I'm grateful. Was Wyatt actually there?" he queried, looking at Chris for an answer.

"If he wasn't how the hell did I get hit by an energy ball?" Chris shot at Cole who rolled his eyes in response. "He left way too quickly. He shoulda stayed, just for a bit longer," Chris said, "it mighta stopped …"

"You know you can't stop someone's time Chris," Cole pointed out quietly. "If it was his time, Death wouldn't stop until he got him."

"It might not have been his time," Chris shot back angrily.

"You don't know that," Cole replied, keeping calm in the face of Chris' anger, but silently glad they had gotten past the point were the teenager being angry would cause his hands to flame up. "Chris, you can't take everything that happens in this war personally. You'll end up the worse for it." He sighed, pulling at his collar, loosing the top button and the tie.

"I like him," Chris said softly. Cole looked up, frowning. He hadn't expected that. "Sirius," Chris added redundantly. "He was the only one in the Order who didn't care 'bout who I was. He just treated me like a kid."

"You are a kid," Cole said, frowning.

"I know that Cole," Chris said, rolling his eyes at him. "They Order, they treat me like an adult, as an equal," he paused, before pasting on a quick, easy smirk. "Which, y'know, works for me, an' all my evil nefarious plannin' what I do," he said before pausing again, licking his lips slightly, as they felt horribly dry. "But Sirius … he just treated me like a kid. Like one of his kids." Cole simply nodded at this, not quite sure what to say, but with a feeling that he wasn't actually meant to say anything at all. "They were gonna be a family you know," Chris said again. "All three of 'em, Sirius, Harry and Luperca…. A proper family." Cole looked at the youngest Halliwell, suddenly, for the first and possibly the last time, understood Chris perfectly.

"They both had and have what you wanted," he said, looking at Chris. "They had a father who didn't think them failures," he paused, thinking slightly, "and a sibling they can count on, even if they don't like each other." Chris didn't respond to Cole's musing, so wisely the man dropped the subject. He looked at the op of the folded paper, at the headline blaring out at him, and sighed slightly. He checked his watch. "It's getting near nine Chris," he said, "you should get back to the tower." Chris nodded, orbing himself quietly out of the room. After he had left, Cole's head dropped to the table, as he hit it off the top twice. "Next time you get a great insight into his life," he told himself, "it'd be wise to just keep it in your head."

 **XXX**

"Luna if people keep taking your stuff," Chris told her, as they wandered through the corridors of the school, putting up her hand-written notices, "you should just place a return to owner charm on them." Luna blinked at him, frowning slightly. "Oh right … that was one of Grams' tricks," he muttered in thought. "Tell ya what, I'll put it on your stuff when we get it back. Just cast it over your trunk and whatever's in it."

"Thank you," Luna smiled dreamily, placing another notice on to a nearby patch of empty space on a notice board. She turned slightly, and her smiled grew somewhat softer. "Hello," she said to Harry, making sure the pin was in the notice firmly. Chris nodded a greeting to him, which was returned.

"How come you two aren't at the feast?" Harry asked, looking at them with curiosity.

"Chris is helping me," Luna answered on behalf of both of them. "I've lost most of my possessions. People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so we've been putting up signs." Harry looked at Chris, who gave a small shrug.

"She wouldn't let me call for them," he offered as way of explanation. Harry nodded, an odd look upon his face. Chris worked out what it meant quickly; mostly since it was part of the same way he was feeling at the moment: Harry was feeling sorry for Luna. Chris rated it as a step up from Harry being completely emotionless at least.

"How come people hide your stuff?" Harry asked, a frown appearing on his face. Chris scowled.

"Because the people at this school are right little bas…"

"I think they think I'll a bit odd," Luna said quickly, interrupting whatever it was that Chris had planned to say. "Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually." She let out a soft giggle heard. "I suppose it's clever, in its way, but I would rather that they didn't call me it."

"No excuse for them to take your things," Harry said "D'you want help finding them."

"Well, Chris is helping me," Luna said, pointing at Chris who was now leaning against the wall, silently listening to the conversation. "Why aren't _you_ at the feast?" she asked Harry who simply shrugged in response.

"Just didn't feel like it." Chris gave a small snort.

"Understatement of the century that ain't it Wonder Boy?" He remarked. Harry gave him a small smile, seemingly reassured that despite it all, he could count on Chris to be a git towards him. Harry blinked for a moment, looking between Chris and Luna.

"Have you … I mean, who … has anyone you known ever died?" he asked. Chris frowned at the question, wondering what had made him ask that particular one.

"Yes, my mother," Luna told Harry simply. "She was quite an extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine." Chris reached out to her, squeezing her shoulder in a comforting gesture, which drew an odd look from Harry. Chris threw him a scathing glare, rolling his eyes.

"M'sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Yes, it was rather horrible. I still feel very sad about it sometimes, but I've still got Dad," Luna said conversationally. Chris gave a small laugh at this, her persistent good nature. "And my angel," she added, causing a painful jolt in Chris' stomach. He had almost forgotten exactly who Luna's angel was. "It's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"

Harry frowned. "Isn't it?"

"Potter … technically I'm part whi…angel," Chris said in a very deadpan tone of voice, using angel instead of whitelighter simply as he assumed Harry would understand him better that way. It didn't detract from that fact that, technically, a whitelighter was an angel though, but Chris preferred not to think on that as he hated to think what that really meant about him. "What the hell does that tell you?" Harry blinked at this, having never really considered that matter. Chris couldn't blame him really, most people didn't.

"And you heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you? In that room with the archway," Luna said, looking at Harry in disbelief, before smiling warmly. "They were just lurking out of sight, that's all." Harry found himself stunned into silence, looking up at Chris who simply shrug, neither confirming nor denying Luna's theory.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?" he asked Luna once he had managed to find his voice.

"Oh no, no, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up … it always does in the end … well, have a nice holiday, Harry." said Luna, before turning to Chris. "And I do hope you'll consider coming to visit during the holiday's Chris," she said. Chris smirked.

"Wild horses Lunar," he told her. She smiled widely, and walked away from them. Chris waited for a few minutes, before facing the ground. "Too many," he said softly. Harry frowned.

"…What?"

"In answer to your question, has anyone I've known ever died?" Chris said. "My answer is too many," he said, nodding slightly. "For as long as I can remember I've been seeing people die, Wonder Boy," Harry looked at him, not speaking. Chris directed his gaze upwards, towards the ceiling, not wanting to meet Harry's eyes. "Scooby is just the latest in the long line for me. Doesn't mean I'm gonna willingly let anyone else die. Or that I'm gonna let it stop me doing what I need to do." There was a moment of silence, "and you shouldn't let it either."

Harry took this in, nodding slowly. "Thanks … I think."

Chris nodded. "Don't mention it," he said, turning to return to the tower, before pausing in careful thought. "Oh yeah, Potter?"

"What?"

"You ever try anything as stupid as taking on Tommy again without the right preparation I'll be the one fuckin' killing you, not him."

"…Understood."

 **XXX**

King's Cross station had not improved itself any in Chris' eyes. He had originally planned to simply orb himself out of the Hogwarts grounds, but Cole had warned him that if he wasn't on the train and remained on the train until he met the Order members at King's Cross then, damn the Elders, he was calling Grams. Chris had no desire, or great wish to give his great-grandmother the time to berate for every little wrong action she could think of, so he opted to take the train with the rest of the students who took it. Didn't mean he had to go and sit with anyone else. He would have chosen to sit with Luna, but on realising she now had more friends than just him, he thought it best to let her interact with them. He'd see her during the holidays anyway, he had promised.

He hung back, watching as the other Order members - who he had 'reported in with' as Cole had dictated to him - verbally threatened the Dursley family, who seemed terrified by the members even being near them.

"If we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," Moody said, putting on a lopsided grin which had the unfortunate effect of being more sinister than a straight out glare would have been on the man. The man he was talking, who Chris assumed was Harry's 'infamous' Uncle Vernon, swelled ominously.

"Are you threatening me sir?" he asked very loudly.

"Yes, I am."

"And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?" Vernon Dursley barked at Moody who considered the matter for a moment.

"Well … " he said, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his magical eye, which was revolving in what could be claimed as a sinister manner in its socket. Vernon leapt backward in horror. "Yes, I'd have to say you do Dursley." Moody turned to talk to Harry, as did the other Order members.

At this point Chris stepped forward, looking up at Vernon with a cool glare. "I know your type Dursley," he said to him in a low voice, just in case anyone heard him. Vernon turned to look at him with scorn in his eyes, obviously not willing to listen to a relative child. Chris smirked inwardly, knowing that he could use that disinterest to his advantage. Especially with someone who was obviously so concerned with appearances. It was all a matter of wording it right

"And I know that deep down you still don't think that lot," here he nodded towards the Order members, who were still crowded around Harry, "will carry out any threats. For the record, I agree on you with that point, at the moment anyway." He paused deliberately, allowing Vernon to take his words in, making him think that he was talking to a kindred spirit. "But listen to me carefully, they might not carry out any threat, _but I will._ "

Vernon stared, stepping backwards in unreasonable fear, as just for a second, he could have sworn there had been a glint of something in Chris' eyes. "What are you?" he asked, in a trembling voice, which was a shallow parody of the somewhat fierce voice he had spoken with a few moment before. "I asked what are you to him?"

"I'm his guardian angel," Chris said, smirking and turning away from them.

 **XXX**

"It would appear that the school year is over Thomas," Wyatt said in a calm voice, looking over at Voldemort. "The little boy who defeated you yet again goes to his home, alive and well," he paused, smirking slightly, "for the most part."

"It is a source of … deep irritation for myself," Voldemort hissed, before adding, "my Lord." Wyatt's smirk, so much like his younger brother's, grew. "I did not get to hear the prophecy due to the incompetence of my own select band," Voldemort snapped.

"Then it is clear that they are in need of more training Thomas," Wyatt said, keeping his calm nature. "Perhaps Lord Christopher can show them the right way to act in that type of situation," he added. Voldemort's eyes narrowed, noticing that there was a clear, unrepressed, strain of pride in Wyatt's voice.

"They will not listen to him, my Lord," Voldemort pointed out in a growl. "And even if we were to dismiss the knowledge that he only showed up at the Ministry before you made your appearance, as Bellatrix reported … is he the best trainer that we have?" he paused, taking in Wyatt's expression, which suggested he was listening to Voldemort, though not happy with what he was hearing. "It is no secret that he does not have faith in his own abilities, surely wit this doubt … well he wouldn't be the best of teachers."

Wyatt stood silent for a few minutes, considering this. "This may indeed be the case," he said eventually, his voice even. "I shall assign someone else to the task instead," he added. "Lord Christopher himself is to go through training this summer period anyway," he commented, "as though he may be quick with his own powers - however much he doubts himself - he is lacking in muggle combat." There was a period of silence. "And as to what Bellatrix reported … " he stopped, looking towards the ground for a second before looking back up. "As I have told you time again, Thomas, I have _nothing_ to fear with Christopher," he glared at Voldemort, the feeling of repressed anger clear in his glare. "My brother will not betray me."

"My Lord, I speak only out of concerns placed to me by Severus," Voldemort said quickly, trying to fend off Wyatt's anger. "He told me that Christopher takes no interest in anything, except for a few simply childish pranks, which he seems to only take part in to remove his own boredom." Voldemort paused. "It is as though he simply doesn't care."

Wyatt glared furiously at Voldemort, flexing his fingers, unsure whether or not to blow the man up, or simply to punch him. "We have been through this many times before Thomas," he hissed at the man, "and this is the last time I shall say it. We have nothing to fear with Christopher. He. Will. Not. Betray. Me."

"'Course I won't," a loud voice called into the room. "After all, I know better." Wyatt and Voldemort turned quickly at the new voice, seeing Chris standing at doorway, a smirk playing on his face. "Hey guys, ya miss me?"

**Author's Note:**

> And there it was, the first chapter of my first ever Charmed fic. Yes, there is more to come, and yes hopefully it will come soon. And as you may have noticed, the first chapter did not focus on Chris. Instead it focused on my own character. I do have a reason for this. I wanted an outsider's view of Chris before I gave his own view. Just to set up his character.
> 
> This is set in the unchanged future, where Wyatt is the great evil picking on the world. Chris is not going to very plesant in this, I believe my beta has referred to him as a 'git' numerous times. But there are reasons for this, that will become apparant as the fic goes on. Oh yes, since I cannot find a good way to make the Harry Potter timeline, and the Charmed line link properly this is set during the golden trio's fifth year. Just to make it simple.
> 
> So please, read and review. If you wish to tell me what you think of Luperca please feel free to, and I will try to answer your questions to the best of my ablities. Thanks for reading.


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